


Her Lion

by TheMightyZan



Series: Nell and Cullen [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 42,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2858189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyZan/pseuds/TheMightyZan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots (in no particular order) about Inquisitor Tirnel Lavellan and her Commander, Cullen Rutherford.</p><p>Prepare for awkwardness and sarcasm.</p><p>(Chapters with NSFW content will be marked)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Honnleath

Music floated out from the open doors and onto the balcony where they made a slow circle. She contemplated putting her head on his shoulder, but thought better of it since she wasn’t sure she could keep up with even his measured steps if she let her mind wander. She may have done alright dancing with the Duchess, but that had only been after hours of practice and harsh language with Josephine.

Instead, she tilted her head back and stared up at the man who currently led their sedate pace. He had a look of utter concentration, his mouth pulling down in a frown as his gaze rested just over her shoulder.

He was thinking too hard about it; maybe he should have practice with Josie also. Either way, she wanted him to smile again. She liked his smile almost as much as she liked the determined set of his jaw when he was studying a problem, but she got to see it less often so always seemed to want it more. 

She was working on that. Well, working on it in terms of trying to find ways to get him to simply relax for more than a single moment a week.

“So… Cullen Stanton.”

His eyes moved back to hers and she watched, amused, as they grew wary. “Yes…”

“Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford.” She said the name as if she were tasting it, rolling the syllables around in her mouth, and doing her very best to try and not laugh. “I didn’t know you’re full name before.”

“It’s a perfectly normal name.”

“Is it? Then why didn’t I know it before now? It was always just Cullen, or Commander Cullen. Shouldn’t it have been Commander Rutherford?” She was smiling, a little too widely she knew, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Nell…” He said her name as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, then simply sighed and drew them into a turn.

“It’s a very proper sounding name. Does it have any numbers or suffixes at the end?” She had learned about those recently, one of the millions of things Josephine had been making her study. She almost hoped it did. It would make the revelation all the better.

“No, and I’m not sure how I should take you being amused by my name.”

“Well, you should take it well. It’s very impressive. I’m in absolute awe of it, and the only reason that seems like amusement is because otherwise I would be so overwhelmed by it I would probably collapse into a puddle of admiration on the floor.”

She grinned up at him even as he rolled his eyes at her words. It was almost enough, but she still saw how his focus went just a bit too much back to the steps of their dance.

“I wonder how it would sound if I was yelling it in a fit of passion.”

That did it. His footsteps faltered, his grip tightening on her hand and waist, even as a bright red blush bloomed over his face.

It made her laugh, a too loud sound that would probably draw the attention of every courtier within a mile radius. She didn’t care, it was too perfect. Surprisingly though it was almost immediately cut off by the unsuspecting pressure of his lips.

Their steps drew to a stop, postures dropping as she ran her hands up over his shoulders and his arms tightening enough around her waist to lift her almost off her toes so he didn’t have to bend to reach her. The kiss was long, and lingering, and deep enough to have her mind going a bit fuzzy before he finally pulled away and let her drop back to her feet. 

He made a point of carefully putting them back into the correct positions to start dancing again. Once he had taken them around in almost a complete circle, and she had begun to sort out her thoughts, he leaned in a bit so that his breath brushed over her ear as he spoke low enough to cause her to shiver. “You can yell that if I can yell, ‘For Honnleath’.”

He so rarely tried to be funny that it still always surprised her when he was. That was the only reason she could think of that she was the one who stumbled after his words, her mind reeling a moment before she started laughing again.

“Yes,” she finally managed in a strangled hiccup. “That would be perfect.”


	2. Hair and All

"I’ve almost got it."

"It’s not going to work."

"Inquisitor, I really need you to remain positive."

"I am positive, Josie. Positive that short of my hair deciding to lay down in a shocking show of defeat you are going to have to rip all of it out before you get it to do what you seem to want it to do."

She looked up in time to see her advisor poke her tongue out in concentration a moment before dropping her hands and letting out an annoyed huff.

"It’s still sticking up, isn’t it." A statement made with barely contained laughter that had Josephine narrowing her eyes.

"Yes."

"Is ripping it out still an option?"

"Maybe."

She smiled at the harrowed looking woman. She had learned very early in life that her hair had no desire to conform to normal hair standards, parts of it curling and others refusing to be anything besides stick straight, and all of it tangling at the least provocation, and had quickly adapted by simply cutting it short and letting the remaining length do as it wished.

It had never bothered her, but apparently, when it came to fancy balls and palaces, it was not an appropriate look for the leader of the Inquisition.

"Josie, they already aren’t going to like me because I’m an elf, do you really think my hairstyle will make a single bit of difference?"

"Yes!" Josephine stepped back and began searching through her bag of supplies. "We must be presentable, Your Worship, especially because they are close minded enough to look down on you as an elf."

She smiled at that, warmed that her friend saw it as being close minded. She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sound of boots on the stairs leading up to her room. Turning to see who was coming, her smile turned to a scowl when Cullen appeared.

"Oh, well, that’s just not fair."

The man stopped, his top foot on the last step, at her words, confusion crossing his face. “Sorry? What?”

She made a disgusted noise and waved a hand at him. “You would have to come in here looking like a glorified story prince while we are contemplating the positives of me being bald.”

His confusion didn’t lessen but he did make his way further into the room, his hands working to smooth down the front of his red jacket. “Why would you want to be bald?”

"Because otherwise Josie might just declare war on my head."

He looked over at Josephine, a tilted smile forming when he saw her pull a jar of something out with a triumphant hum. “How much has she already put in your hair?”

"Trust me when I say you don’t want to know."

He gave a slight nod, and simply watched a moment before seeming to remember why he was there in the first place. “Leliana wanted me to tell you all that we needed to leave in the next half hour if we had any hopes of arriving at least fashionably late.”

Josephine shot him a glare, her normally calm expression exchanged for something dark. “I’m doing the best I can.”

He studied them another minute before taking Josephine’s wrists and pulling her away from the abused locks she was currently trying to beat into submission. “I have a better idea.”

He reached up and pulled a piece of Josephine’s hair from her neatly made bun, causing it to stick up at a slight angle. The diplomat looked mortally offended at the gesture, and would have probably immediately reached to fix it if she hadn’t been stopped by Cullen’s movements of doing the same to his own hair, causing a few pieces near his ear to curl riotously.

"What exactly are you doing, Commander?"

"Making your life easier, Ambassador. If you cannot get her hair to do as you want, we will simply make ours match. You should probably go and let the others know to do the same."

The woman blustered a moment, something about such things simply not being done, but when all she received were two equally amused looks she threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. Who wants to be taken seriously anyway.”

She turned and left, her mutters of impropriety echoing back up the stairs to them.

"She is never going to forgive you for that. I, however, think that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." Her words caused him to give a self conscious laugh, even as he turned to run his fingers through her short locks, fluffing the pieces back into their usual haphazardness.

She practically purred under his touch, her eyes falling shut a moment before he lifted her chin to give her a quick kiss. “Yes well, since I only ever aim to impress you that’s fine then. Besides, I’m sure she will find something else to fuss over soon enough.”

He helped her to stand, and took a moment to trace her cheek. “Before we leave and I don’t get another chance, I should tell you that you look stunning this evening.”

"Hair and all?"

"I’ve always liked your hair. It suits you perfectly."

She laughed at that, and took his hand. “I think that was a compliment.”

"Most definitely." The smile he sent her with his words was warm, and it made her contemplate blushing, which of course, made her roll her eyes. "Flatterer."

When he only grinned more widely in response she pulled him after her and down the stairs.


	3. Adorable

She was studying. She was. She had promised Josephine that she would read the book about Orlesian nobility before their… guests… got to the Keep, and she never backed out of a promise.

Usually not ever. 

Well, not often.

But she hadn’t backed out of this promise. She was reading it. If by reading she meant being sprawled sideways in the chair in Dorian’s tower nook with the book pages down on her stomach and her head leaning into the corner of the chair’s back while her eyes studied the inside of her eyelids.

It wasn’t really her fault though. The book was boring, and boring made her sleepy.

She could hear Dorian moving around her, and the thump of books while he re-cataloged something for probably the thousandth time.

She wondered if she could get him to read about the nobility for her, then just sum it up. He loved things like that.

Just as she was contemplating getting up the energy to open her eyes his voice floated over to her, amusement lacing his words. “I have a question for you, Nellie, if you could bring yourself to grace the waking world with your presence.”

She wrinkled her nose at the name and cracked a lid to peer at him with one eye. “One day I’m going to start calling you Dori, and you’re going to hate it.”

He shot her a grin and came over to lean against the shelf closest to her. “The day that happens is the day you stop coming up here to hijack my chair.”

She humphed and burrowed more deeply into the chair. “It’s comfortable, and you would never kick me out. You love my company too much.”

When he simply raised a brow in reply she opened her other eye and smiled at him. “You had a question for your illustrious leader?”

"I don’t know if illustrious could be used for someone who naps in corners like a cat, but that is neither here nor there. I was curious. You seem to have recently developed a liking for… strapping young Templars."

"Jealous?"

He laughed at the question. “Hardly. I actually find it quite adorable. What I was wondering was what exactly you saw in him. He seems very stoic for, well, you.”

She continued to smile as she pushed herself into more of a sitting position. “It’s very simple, and believe me when I tell you this is the truth. That man has, and I use this phrase in all seriousness, the perfect butt.”

She lifted her hands as she said it, making some vague motion that seemed to encapsulate grabbing the object of her statement. Dorian blinked once then let out a sharp laugh of approval. “Really? Who could tell through all that armor and fluff?”

"You can’t, which is probably a good thing. It might cause a national crisis otherwise."

"I don’t know if I believe you. I mean, perfect? How many have you seen to compare?"

"Well, if you are willing to show me yours so I can make a comparison list I will be happy to do so."

"Please don’t." The new voice drew both their attentions, and revealed itself to belong to Solas, his face carefully neutral as he joined them in the sun drenched alcove. "At least not while I’m here."

Dorian smirked at him and turned to pull a book from the shelf he was propped against. “You probably couldn’t handle it anyway. It would be disastrous for you both, seeing the glory of true perfection and never being able to obtain it.”

Solas rolled his eyes even as he turned to the inquisitor. “Tirnel, I thought you might have been having trouble keeping attention with your current reading objective so I brought something to distract you.” He held out an old scroll, and her smile widened as she took it and recognized the elvish script.

Oh yes, this was much better. Solas always found interesting things about their people for her to learn. “Ma serannas.”

His expression was friendly enough, but she could see the calculation that so often lurked behind the easy facade and prepared herself for the inevitable question that was going to follow. “I do have a question, lethallan. You are constantly telling me how the people need help and guidance, and you have stated on more than one occasion that you hoped that they might one day reclaim their glory. Where does a human lover factor into that?”

She scowled a bit at the question, noting that Dorian had seemed to take great interest in how she might answer. Her feelings for Cullen were… complicated, and too new to be banded about to anyone other than who they were directed at. Not to mention that it was, frankly, none of their business.

She settled for working the scowl away and brandishing the hand not holding the scroll in a dismissive wave. “I may very well die trying to close that breach. I don’t think anyone can blame me for enjoying someone who can pick me up like I weigh no more than this scroll.”

"And if you do survive?"

She huffed out a breath and straightened in the chair, catching the book at the last moment as it tumbled into her lap. “I can still work for improving my people’s lot without making dozens of Elven babies. Someone else can have that job.”

They stared at each other a moment before Solas gave a thoughtful nod. “I see what you mean. I was simply curious.”

He stepped backwards and offered a slight bow before turning away, his words winging back at her from over his shoulder. “Come and see me when you finish reading that. I’m sure you will have questions.”

Dorian and she sat in silence a moment before his soft laughter broke through the quiet air. “Ooo, I see. Our Nellie is feeling a bit more than just lust after a delicious posterior.”

"Shut up, Dorian."

"That really is adorable."

She threw the book at him, drawing a laugh from herself as he stumbled to move out of its path. “So, do I get to see yours now?”

He chuckled even as he leaned over to pick up the abused volume. “Would your lion come after me for letting you?”

She looked towards the ceiling, a finger coming up to tap at her chin. “Maybe. It would be interesting to find out.”

"Hmm, perhaps later than."


	4. It's Definitely Possible

She enjoyed sitting. Not as much as she enjoyed laying, but it was the next best thing, and when there wasn’t convenient sprawling space it simply had to do.

She justified it with the fact that she spent most of her time traipsing around two different countries fixing problems for people.

And trying to find and kill Corypheus, couldn’t forget that.

But back to the present, she enjoyed being off her feet, which she assumed was the reason that she was perched cross legged on a table in the corner of her commander’s office, watching him address his soldiers.

She was often lurking in the corners of places, it was something that the inquisition as a whole had seemed to accept, or so she guessed since they had long since stopped asking her what she was doing or if she needed anything.

Her favorite places were Dorian’s chair and Solas’ couch, but neither had the added advantage of watching Cullen work so hard table it was.

Maybe she could talk him into putting some other, more comfortable, furniture around.

She refocused her attention as the soldiers began filing out, leaving the two of them in the sudden silence of a too large space. The commander was leaned over his desk reading a report, content it seemed to let her linger while he worked.

She smiled at the thought. Not that anyone had ever actually told her to leave before.

So she watched him and the way he rubbed idly at his neck, his fingers working away some invisible tension before moving to smooth back the strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

Varric called him Curly, she wondered what he did to it to make it look so straight, and why he even bothered. Actually, she knew why he bothered. Because the man couldn’t walk five feet out his door without looking presentable. Maybe it was a Templar thing.

That occupied her thoughts enough to distract her from why she had originally sought out his room, and so they shared the silence for awhile, her lids drooping as she leaned back against the wall behind her. She had wanted to talk to him. About several things, but the longer they sat in the quiet the harder it seemed for her to request his attention.

She should have asked for it immediately, but, well, distractions and all.

It wasn’t until he made to leave the room that she perked up, afraid that he would be lost forever to the whims of his troops.

"Commander! You’re not going anywhere important are you?"

He glanced back at her, a brow raised as he lifted the stack of papers he held in his hand. “Not terribly, I just needed to drop off some reports to Leliana.”

She nodded and hopped down from her perch. “Care if I join you? I was hoping to talk with you. In private. About… things.”

"Private?" The brow stayed raised but he did glance back around the empty room a moment, his lips lifting into a slight smile.

"Well, private as in no one will come barging in without notice."

"Why would… um," he looked back to her before shaking his head a bit. "Of course. This shouldn’t take long anyway."

They made quick work of hunting down the Spymaster and afterwards she lead him to one of the lesser frequented battlements. She wasn’t entirely sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted, but at least it was less likely, and the cold wind that blew around them would do well in keeping their conversation private.

She missed when he said something, her thoughts on the specifics of what the private conversation would actually entail. She stared at the back of his head a moment since he was walking a few steps in front of her, searching her brain for any inkling of what he had been talking about, something about a nice day, maybe.

"What?"

He looked back to her, his hand back up at his neck, and he opened his mouth to speak then seemed to think better of it. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

She nearly laughed at the awkwardness of it. Talking to someone should never be this hard. “Well, it definitely wasn’t the weather.”

He blushed at the statement, a faint pink that tinted the skin just under his eyes and made her smile. “No, I didn’t think that was what it was about.”

She went to lean against one of the crumbling walls, her gaze moving off to the mountains in the distance. “We’ve been doing this… this thing. Dance. Whatever. For awhile now, and I care for you but…” She trailed off, aware that she was probably just a pink as he had been, which made her disgusted with herself.

"What’s wrong?

The question was asked quietly and she was surprised to see that he had moved closer to her, his head tilted expectantly for her answer and she felt her blush deepen.

Stupid handsome man in armor with his defined jaw and perfect hair. It was ridiculous. Creators forbid Dorian or Sera ever caught wind of how she was acting, they would never let her live it down.

Pulling herself together with that thought she straightened her shoulders and lifted a hand to emphasize her point. “Cullen, look, I’m a mage and you’re a Templar, or, well, you were. I know you left the order but that doesn’t mean… I just need to know if I’m being colossally stupid or if there was even a remote chance that you could think of me as anything but a mage.”

"I can. I mean- I mean I do!" His reply was swift, almost tumbling out of his mouth as he took a hesitant step towards her. "Think of you," he continued on almost lamely. "I also think about what I might say in this sort of situation."

She tilted him a smile at that, calmer after seeing him stumble over himself. “Waiting on me to make the first move? I thought I did that back when Haven was sacked.”

He let out a breathless laugh at the reminder of the kiss she had foisted on him before running off to give them time to escape. “No, or yes I suppose, depending on how you look at it.”

He took another, measured, step closer and she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact with him. She could almost feel the heat coming off of him, the ends of the feathers that hung down his chest almost, but not quite, brushing her front. “You’re the Inquisitor, and we are in the middle of a war… It didn’t seem like something that was possible for me to ever have a chance of following through with.”

She licked her lips a bit self consciously at his almost predatory movements, and felt her stomach clench when his gaze dropped to follow the movement of her tongue. “Well,” she started then had to stop and clear her throat when she felt his hands land lightly on her hips. He must have thought about this quit a bit because he was doing a marvelous job. “It definitely seems possible to me.”

She was surprised to see him smirk as his face lowered to hers. “I think you’re right.”

She slid her eyes closed, her hands coming to rest on his arms, as she waited for their lips to connect.

The word “Commander” was like an explosion going off.

They broke apart like two guilty children found breaking into the sweets jar and she watched as he expelled a harsh breath, his head dropping a moment, before he turned to the messenger that had appeared near them.

He ground out a ‘what’, but she wasn’t really paying attention, her thoughts chaotic as she struggled to pull herself back together.

She let out a sigh of her own. Work, always work. It never ended. Stupid Corypheus and his stupid need to be stopped, and the Inquisition’s stupid need to curry favor with and protect everyone.

She heard the nearest door close again, and opened her mouth to let him know that they could always make time later but she was abruptly cut off by his hands fisting into her hair and his lips capturing hers.

It took her by surprise, not just the suddenness of it but also the desperation behind it. He kissed her as if he was afraid he might be ripped away at any moment, his tongue taking advantage of her still gaping mouth to slid in and over her own.

It was bruising, and consuming, and wonderful.

She had only just wrapped her head around it, her thoughts screaming to know where this had been hiding, when he pulled away, his words breathless as he first stuttered an apology and then told her how nice it had been.

The contrast made her laugh, a slightly wild sound that was pulled from her mouth and lost into the wind that still whipped around them.

"That was exactly what I was hoping for. I think… It was all sort of a blur."

He flashed her a smile as he moved his hands from her head to her waist and wasted no time in lifting her to sit on the battlement wall, which earned him a squeak of surprise. He gave a laugh of his own and stepped between her legs. “Than let me show you again so you can be sure.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her smile widening to match his. “I think that is an excellent plan.”


	5. It will be Alright

"Cullen!"

His name was a sharp crack against the sounds of the practice fighting around him. He looked up from the men in front of him just in time to see the Inquisitor rushing towards him, Leliana and Josephine close behind.

He started to reply but stopped as she all but crashed into him, her fingers curling ineffectually into the armor on his arms. He lifted his hands to her shoulders to steady her, his gaze moving to the other advisors and the twin looks of worry they wore.

"What’s wrong?"

"I need you to send soldiers, you’re best soldiers. As many as you can."

He looked back down at the elven woman, noting the way her skin seemed drawn around her face, her freckles standing out in sharp contrast to the worrisome pallor of her skin. She shifted, seemingly unable to stay still, her eyes darting from him to the soldiers that had all stopped fighting when she ran up. It was all wrong. She was the type who never seemed to put energy into anything, even when fighting she cast her spells and wielded her staff as if it was all a lazy afterthought that she only put as much effort into as was absolutely needed.

Seeing her, of all people, so on edge made worry settle in his gut. “Tell me what’s happened.”

"There isn’t time for-" He cut off her words with a shake of his head and a squeeze of his hands. "Nell, tell me what’s happened."

She shot a look back to Leliana who stepped forward and offered him a folded letter. He lifted a hand to take it even as Leliana spoke. “It seems that the Inquisitor’s clan has come under several attacks recently. They are requesting aid since they don’t know how much longer they will be able to hold out on their own.”

She continued, stating something about needing to see who was behind the attacks, while he skimmed the letter himself. It wasn’t until Nell shouted that he returned his focus to what was being said.

"I’m not going to leave them to fend for themselves while your people slink around back allies! It’s not important who’s doing it."

"Of course it’s important, Inquisitor. We can’t be sure that the attacks will stop unless we know who is behind them."

He felt Nell practically vibrate under his hand, and tightened his grip automatically. He watched as she opened her mouth to speak, seemed to check herself, and then tried again. “You can look for that answer to your heart’s content after we send them immediate help.”

She turned back to face him, her words turning slightly desperate again. “Can you send soldiers?”

"Of course. I’ll send out a contingent today."

He watched as her shoulders slumped in relief though her expression did not clear. “Thank you.”

He started to step away from her, fully intending to immediately follow through with his word, but her worried frown stopped him. He thought briefly about the fact that his fellow advisors were still watching them, along with a large part of Skyhold’s recruits, but they seemed unimportant in the face of seeing her look so lost.

So he didn’t hesitate before rubbing a thumb over the furrow between her eyes, and lowering his own brow to hers. “It will be alright.”

She gave a jerky nod, her forehead bumping against his with the movement. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before speaking again. “I hope so.”

It was probably the best he would get until the whole matter was resolved, so he skimmed his lips over her cheek and turned away to summon his men.


	6. Nightmares

She woke because of the shuddering.

It was a minor thing, especially because he was curled at the other end of the bed and tucked so much into himself that she would need to stretch out her arm to reach him, but it was enough. Enough to have her blinking still drowsy eyes before turning, almost without thinking, to reach out to his far away form.

His back was cold to her touch, and he flinched away from her with a low groan and half formed words that ended on almost sobs.

It broke her heart to hear them.

She didn’t let that deter her, instead she set about rousing herself enough to crawl across the empty space between them and wrap her arms around his almost thrashing form. He fought against her, some unseen demon telling him that her presence was wrong, but she kept her grip and murmured wordless sounds of soothing into his ear.

Eventually he seemed to snap awake, his back going ramrod straight against her front, and she waited for the inevitable apologies. When they came, she shushed him, giving voice to reminders that she loved him, that he was not alone, that this too would pass into nothing but distant memory.

He didn’t believe her, he never did, and when he offered to move to his own room she pulled him to face her and wrapped her top leg around his waist.

He would not face this alone.

He would not wake up to nothing but dark words and an empty room.

Eventually he drifted back to sleep, her hand making lazy circles over his back, and her lips moving slowly over his neck as she told some nonsense story of when she was small.

When she felt his breath even out she pulled him tighter, promises falling from her lips that were lost to the empty air.

She would watch over him.

She would protect him.

If she could take this pain and terror away she would.

With those thoughts on her mind, she finally let herself drift to sleep.


	7. Want

"What are you writing?"

She had entered the tower office to find the Commander bent over his desk, his hand moving a quill quickly over a piece of parchment. The question earned her a brief look before he focused back down, his forehead coming to rest in his free hand.

"A letter to my sister, I told her I would write a longer one when I had the time."

"Oh." She skirted the edge of the desk and moved behind him, leaning a bit in order to wrap her arms around his shoulders and peer over at the distinctly crisp words that she saw every day in his reports. "What are you writing about?"

"Nothing of consequence. I am mainly just telling her that everything is fine."

She rested her chin into the crook of his neck, her eyes skimming over the first few, decidedly boring, lines. “Are you going to write about me?”

She felt rather than heard his rumble of laughter at the question before he tilted his head a bit in order to rub the side of her face with his. “She wants me to. I’m not sure if I should.”

"Why?"

"You, My Lady, are not so simple a topic as to condense you into a few sentences."

She beamed at nothing in particular at the statement. “Is that a good or bad thing?”

He set the quill down and turned at the waist to snatch her and draw her into his lap, settling her into as comfortable a position as was possible with being squeezed between the desk edge and his armor. His eyes were warm as he nuzzled into her neck. “A very good thing.”

They didn’t speak for several minutes after that, lost as they were in the warm cocoon of each other. When her knee banged into the desk edge, however, Cullen pulled back and smoothed a soothing hand over the smarting skin.

"What would you want me to tell her? Since it concerns you."

Since she was annoyed at the interruption of their interlude, it took a bit before she could reply to him, a tilted grin appearing as she did so. “That I am amazing, and awesome, and wonderful in bed, and you would be absolutely lost without me.”

He chuckled at her answer and let his hand drift higher on her leg. “That seems to cover it all. I will keep the suggestion in mind.”

He touched his lips to hers, his fingers moving up to caress her hips. She let him have his way for awhile, his hands sliding over suddenly annoying clothes as his mouth played over hers.

It took far more willpower than she thought she had to pull back and look at him.

"Cullen, do you think you could finish your letter later, and take a break with me? Upstairs? In your bed?"

Or on the floor beside it, or right here in the chair.

He smiled at her, obviously amused at her turn of thoughts, though his eyes were filled with anything but humor.

Want seemed more likely.

"Give me a moment to lock the doors, and then I’m yours."


	8. Damn It

Damn it.

Damn it.

She was in love with him.

Every stupid, perfect, blonde, human piece of him.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

She should have run screaming in the opposite direction the first moment she met him, but no. No, she had to flirt with him, and talk to him, and kiss him, and… and she was an idiot.

She was also staring at him while he stared back, confused, some question that he had asked her lost between them.

The battle at Adamant was over, both sides were tending their wounded, and she had wanted her Commander to be part of the talks with the Wardens about what would be expected of them since they had agreed to join the Inquisition. So she had come to find him, and found him she had.

His armor was smeared with blood and Creators only knew what else, and his face was a strangely streaked grey from soot, and when he had turned to look at her, a relieved smile on his face, her mind had cleared of all helpful information and simply tumbled over the realization that she was, quite desperately, in love with him.

She couldn’t think about it, not now. Not when so much else was going on. Not when she didn’t have the option of killing him if he didn’t feel the same.

It wouldn’t be quick or easy to replace the Commander of the Inquisition armies.

It would be impossible to fill the gigantic space he had apparently taken up in her feelings.

So she shoved it down, and told him that he was needed for talks.

She didn’t pay attention during the meeting with the Wardens either. Her mind kept creeping back to the man at her side, and the way that he was still able to be a warm presence even with the space and armor between them.

She needed to get away from him. She needed to think.

She couldn’t go back to the suddenly too small seeming Skyhold without a plan.

So she made the decision to head back into the Western Approach and tie up some loose ends that had been left before the siege. Whoever she took with her would be annoyed that it would be a few more weeks before they got a break from fighting and traveling, but they would cope.

And she would promise them a longer break before making them trek out again.

She hunted down Leliana and told her what she would be doing. She told her she wanted to head out that night, and that she needed her spymaster to pass the information on to all relevant parties.

If Leliana had raised a brow at the sudden change in plans she had at least asked no questions about it, to which she was eternally grateful.

She had managed to repack a travel bag, and convinced Bull, Cole, and Dorian to do the same before he found her rolling up her bedroll in her tent

She should have known he would. Of course he would after being told her plans.

She had done well in giving him one word answers and turning towards the tent flap before he had simply placed himself in front of her.

He told her to be safe, that he hoped she would be able to return to Skyhold soon, that his prayers would be with her, and she had been unable to do anything other than settle her forehead onto his chest, words aching at the end of her tongue that she was too terrified to let slip.

They stood like that a long time, his hands making random patterns on her arms before she pulled back and looked at him.

His tilted smile didn’t help anything so she raised onto her toes enough to kiss his chin and then slipped past him.

She was in love with him.

Too bad she wasn’t really even sure what that meant.


	9. Afraid

“Too soon. Too much. You had wanted it to be a simple diversion between friends, but it grew. You’re afraid to look at it, it’s too impractical, impossible, important.”

She looked back to see Cole standing behind her, the moonlight that reflected off the orange sands a soft light around his too pale frame. “Reading my thoughts, da’mi?”

“They are very loud.”

She patted the ground at her side and waited until he had settled there before looking off again. He wasn’t wrong, it had been nearly three weeks since her sudden revelation of feelings and she still wasn’t sure what to do with them. She supposed she could sit on them forever, but the problem was she missed him. She wanted to see his face, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep them buried when they were staring her in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Cole. I didn’t mean to bother you with my thoughts.”

He shrugged, his fingers picking idly at a random patch of desert grass. “I don’t sleep, I have plenty of time to listen. You need sleep, but it’s hard. You see his face and you hate yourself that you are a coward. That is why you poke fun at the rest of us. It keeps your mind off things.”

“Have I been insufferable?”

He shook his head and smiled slightly. “No, even the others can tell that you are distracting yourself.”

She sighed and folded her arms over her drawn up knees before resting her chin on the top of them. “I haven’t… I don’t…. I don’t know.”

“You’re afraid. Should I cut it off? Should I pull back? He has been through too much. What if I’m asking for too much?” He looked back over to her. “You’re afraid,” he repeated. “Now you have something to lose.”

She stared at him a moment before letting out a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

“How strange.”

“What?”

“He is afraid too, but his fear makes him stronger. This is a good fear. Not like the bad times, the questions that hurt, the lives that were lost. Those fears were terrible, twisted. This fear is bright, brilliant, beautiful because it’s you. You’re fear makes you want to run away, his fear makes him want to stay.”

She looked out over the expanse of desert, his words echoing in her head. Finally, she put her forehead to her knees and rocked it back and forth in the semblance of a shake.

“Did I help?”

She smiled into the dark space between her chest and legs before looking up at him again. “Yes, da’mi, you helped.”

His smile was hesitant but brilliant, another small happiness to tuck away within himself. “Good.”


	10. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter are slightly NSFW

It was already dusk by the time they made their way through the gates of Skyhold. Few people other than the guards on duty were still around, most having disappeared to dinner, and she didn’t bother ringing the bell that announced their arrival since she didn’t want to pull anyone from their meal.

They dropped their mounts off in the stable, and she shared a brief word with Blackwall before following the others through the kitchen and into the main keep where she wasted no time in making her way to her quarters, plans of a bath to wash away the weeks’ worth of sand and sleep forefront in her mind.

She had never bothered with having someone help her with bathing, though Josephine had offered, and so she set the heating rune at the bottom of the metal tub and then filled it with ice, moving off to wait for the rune to melt and heat the water.

She ate a slice of bread and cheese she had lifted from the kitchen on her way in as she waited, her mind wandering to other matters. She needed to talk to Leliana about some missives she had found, and Josephine was probably livid at her for not responding to her letters about the Winter Palace.

It would all wait till in the morning though.

She wanted one night of not thinking about the work that needed to be done.

Liking that idea she went to check the bath water and, finding it warm enough, she stripped and slid in, her muscles tensing against the heat before melting in relief.

Yes. This. She needed this.

She scrubbed at sand burned skin and dunked her head a few times before relaxing back, her eyes closing in pleasure.

She also needed to talk to Cullen.

That thought had her popping open her eyes.

That could wait till tomorrow also. It could. It wasn’t like she needed to see him tonight, he would still be there after a good night’s rest.

It made sense, which was why she was surprised at herself when she found she had climbed from the tub and started toweling herself off.

It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

Another fine point that still didn’t seem to stop her from pulling on her under armor and trying to finger comb her hair into some kind of order.

He was probably busy.

Though apparently she didn’t mind bothering him since she was already headed down the stairs from her rooms and into the main hall.

When she made it to Solas’ study she stopped, eyes going to the new, still wet, piece of his mural. He had told her that he was painting her story, but it still amazed her to see the skill he put into it.

“Do you like it?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice, and whirled to find Solas behind her, book in hand and amusement on his face.

“Solas. Sorry. Yes. I like it very much.”

He moved to stand beside her, his gaze going to his work. He stared at it a moment before giving a nod, as if approving of what he saw, and tilting his head back towards her.

“It is good to see you back in one piece, lethallan.”

“I’m glad to be back, hahren. If I never see a desert again it will be too soon.”

He smiled at her words and moved to set the book he was holding on his desk. “Are you planning on staying here for a while then?”

“A couple of weeks. At least until after the ball thing at the Winter Palace. After that I will need to head to the Exalted Plains. I was hoping you would be willing to join me when I do, it being what it is.”

He gave another nod and smiled again. “I would be happy to go with you. I have not been there in a long time. It will be interesting to sleep there again.”

“I thought you might say as much.” She returned his smile and took a step towards the outer door. “I look forward to it, but I must be going. Have a good night, Solas.”

“You also, Tirnel.” He looked amused as he watched her turn to push through the door, but she pretended not to notice.

It didn’t matter that he very obviously knew where she was going. It wasn’t like she was doing anything wrong by seeking out her Commander. She had been gone; she needed to know how her men were faring.

The door to Cullen’s office stood open, and she could see several people within, which… put a damper on things, but she could adapt.

She slid in and around the door, propping herself into her usual corner as Cullen said something about patrols. She leaned against the table and watched as the commander wrote something on a parchment board.

He looked tired, his brown eyes were shadowed and his usually perfect hair was curling at the tips as if he had been running his hands through it so much the wax he refused to admit he used was coming off. It made her want to pull him into the corner with her and make him take a break. Not that he would. The man had no idea how to relax.

It was another minute before he realized she was there, but she had to hold back her laugh when he did. His eyes had slid over her and he had paused in his sentence, seemingly having lost his train of thought, before continuing, a small smile tilting his lips.

It was amazing how fast he herded his soldiers out after that. Not that she was overly surprised. She probably would have done the same if she thought she could get away with it without too much talk.

He leaned his arms against the door as he shut it, his head falling a moment before he reached out and gripped her arm. Giving a tug to bring her closer, he shifted until he could pull her against him, and simply buried his face against the side of her head.

“You’re back.”

“Yes.” She rubbed her cheek against the fur of his collar, her eyes closing as she returned his embrace. She realized, almost suddenly, that she had dreamed about the smell of him while in the Western Approach, armor polish and lemon. A strange combination, but at the moment it was more than welcome.

“I’m glad.” His voice was muffled against her, the words causing puffs of breath to warm her ear. He pulled back and studied her, a gloved hand coming up to rub at an almost healed slash over her eye before he dropped his arms altogether. “I was worried when you left so soon after Adamant.”

“There were things I needed to finish further west, and I needed to get away from you for a bit. Let myself think.”

His eyes widened at her words, but she didn’t regret saying them. She had never been one to dance around an issue, or try to lie about it, so she saw no point in doing so now. She was surprised by his response, however.

“I’ve been thinking about us also.”

“You have?”

He nodded before stepping away from her, his attention moving to his desk and the piles of paperwork that sat on it. “Well, about us in the future at least. I’ve been wondering what will happen with us when this is over. Assuming we survive of course. I have a whole world open to me now that I am no longer with the Order, but I don’t think…” He trailed off and looked back at her, a rather sheepish smile forming. “I don’t want to move on, not from you.”

The words warmed something inside her, loosening the fear that Cole had so easily picked up on. She didn’t think she wanted to move on from him either.

She moved to stand beside him at the desk, turning so that she could rest the back of her thighs against the edge of it. “I’m glad you said that.”

He raised a hand to her waist, pulling at her so that she slid towards him. Dipping his head, he had just set his lips to hers when one of her hands, searching for a place to rest and steady herself, knocked into a bottle and sent it tumbling to the ground.

The shattering noise pulled their attention, both looking down at the sad remnants of glass a moment before she heard Cullen let out a soft laugh. She looked back to him just in time to watch him lean over her and sweep his arm along the desk, scattering books and papers in all directions before grabbing her waist to hitch her more fully onto the wooden top. She let herself fall back, her heart beating more quickly as he followed, crawling over her until he had covered her prone form.

She felt her breath hitch as he settled onto one arm, his knees bent on either side of her hips, and used his free hand to trace down the center of her chest. He bent his head to kiss her as he did so, his tongue playing over the seam of her lips until they parted for him, letting him dip inside.

She could feel the restraint of his actions as his fingers trailed over the curve of her breast, searching out the peak through the slightly padded fabric. She moaned at the faint brushes and arched her chest into his hand, her head turning from his a moment so she could speak.

“I want…Cullen, please.”

She felt him smile against the side of her neck, his tongue finding the hollow where her pulse beat a rapid rhythm as he shifted so that he could free both arms and use his hands to release the buttons of her shirt. Her own hands went to the folds of his outer tunic, tugging blindly a moment before managing to push back the wad of fur and cloth so that he could pull it off and toss it unceremoniously to the floor.

Things seemed to quicken after that, in no time at all her own shirt had joined his tunic, and he had dipped his head to her breast, his lips closing over the taught peak even as his hands smoothed down her ribs and to her hips.

She arched against him again, the metal of his armor cold against her skin. She reached up, searching out the straps that held it on him, her fingers fumbling over the fastening until she felt him laugh against her skin.

“Having trouble?”

“It’s not like I went around undressing all the warriors in my clan for practice,” she snapped, annoyed at her own lack of dexterity.

When he only laughed again, she frowned. “You could help.”

He nodded and straightened above her, resting his weight on his knees as he reached up to the armor buckles. After a few moments though he frowned and looked down to where his hands were working. “It’s stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Yes, stuck. That’s never happened before.”

“Never happened before? Just how often do you undress on top of women?”

His eyes flew to hers and a blush reddened the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meant.”

She scrambled a bit to push herself up onto her hands, and frowned at the buckle he was working on. “Maybe we should find one of those other women and ask them for help. I’m sure one of your former conquests would be more than willing to have another go at helping you out of your armor.”

His hands paused as he stared at her. “Did you just call the women I’ve slept with conquests?”

“So there are others?”

“That isn’t the point.”

“How many?”

“What, do you want me to write out a list?”

“It could be helpful.”

“Well maybe I want one from you as well then.”

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other a moment, brows drawn low over identical annoyed expressions, when suddenly they both began to laugh.

It was ridiculous.

He lifted a knee so that he could fall into a sitting position at her side, then reached out and pulled her onto his lap, his lips seeking hers in a brief kiss.

“I’ve missed you, Nell.”

He murmured it against her mouth before kissing her again, his still gloved hands running over her bare back. “No one. No one I have ever been with could ever even hold a candle to you.”

She grinned at the words, her hands moving to the buckle again. “How do you know, you haven’t even been with me yet.”

He gave a shake of his head as the fastener released and she moved to the next one. “How could they?”

It seemed simple after that, and the rate at which his armor disappeared seemed to agree with that assessment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hours later that they made it up to his bed, and even longer after that that she woke to the sounds of morning. Never having been one for early rising, or leaving a warm bed, she burrowed under the covers and let herself think about more sleep. She had almost succeeded when she felt the form behind her begin to tremble, words of fear suddenly tumbling around her. She shifted around until she could see her sleeping companion and the fear that seemed to radiate from him. His face was twisted, the blanket they had been sharing kicked to the side, and his hands clinching at the air just above his chest.

She pushed herself up, a hand going out to smooth over his arm before she had really even realized what was going on.

He jerked at her touch, his eyes shooting open as he bolted into a half sitting position. She murmured to him, her hand smoothing over his shoulder, as he stared around himself blindly for a few moments before letting his head fall back to the pillow.

She waited as he came back to himself, his eyes finding her and locking on as if she were the only thing that could keep him from slipping back into the fade.

“Bad dreams?” She tried to keep her voice light even as she moved her hand from his arm to his head, her fingers gliding over his scalp.

“They always are. Without lyrium they’re worse.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head before reaching up to take her hand and draw it to his lips. “I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

She smiled at that, her fingers curling around the heat that had been left on her palm by his mouth. “I’m never worried.”

She watched as he let out a chuckle, his hand moving from hers to her face to pull her closer. “I almost believe that, but I think I know you too well.” He tilted his forehead to hers, and let out a long sigh. “You are… I just… I want you to know that I have never felt anything like this.”

“I love you.” The words tumbled from her before she could stop them, the weeks of uncertainty falling away in the light of a morning waking up in his bed. “I needed you to know that.”

“I love you too.”

He said it easily, as if he had merely been waiting for her to give him the chance, which of course he probably had. He did know her well, and that included knowing that she would need to work out her own feelings before she could accept his.

He pulled her down to him, lips lingering in a slow kiss before he rolled them over so he could look down at her. “We should probably get up.”

She made a sound of disagreement and threaded her arms around his neck. “There’s still time.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed, his teeth finding her ear and causing her to gasp. “But you get to do the explaining if anyone asks why I wasn’t out with the trainees at first light.”

“I think I can manage that. I am the Inquisitor after all.”

“So you are.” He smiled against her cheek and set about putting their situation to good use.


	11. Your Face

The giant Qunari filling his doorway was not what he had been expecting when a knock had come on his door.

Neither was the elf woman who was perched on his back.

“Cullen, just the man I was looking for. I have a delivery for you.”

He came around his desk as the Iron Bull bent down, allowing Nell to clamber off of him. Her stance was more than a little wobbly as she gripped the mercenary’s arm, her head careening around until she saw Cullen, at which point she let go of her grip and tumbled towards him.

He quickened his pace, catching her arms before she could hit the floor. Adjusting his grip he looked from her too flushed face to the grinning mountain that still blocked the light from the doorway.

“What-“

“We were celebrating the dragon we killed back in the Hinterlands. I’ll admit she made it further into the bottle than I thought she would.”

“She’s drunk?” He moved his hands to Nell’s waist when she burrowed into the front of him, some muffled nonsense words he couldn’t understand getting lost in the fur of his collar.

“Heh. Yeah.” Bull looked amused, of course he did.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, and you got the Inquisitor drunk.”

“Hey now. Don’t sell her short. She got herself drunk just fine on her own, and then asked if I would help her get to her lion, and so here we are.”

He felt his face heat at the term. He really needed to talk to her about calling him that to others, it was starting to spread. Maker, even Vivienne had mentioned it and the two mages hated each other.

He mumbled a thank you to Bull, even as the bigger man reached out to pat the Inquisitor’s head before turning away. “Take good care of the boss, lion, she’s going to be feeling it in the morning.”

He really really needed to talk to her about calling him that.

He focused back down on the elf that had wrapped herself around him, and lifted a hand to tilt her face back. Blurry eyes met his, and she offered a wide smile. “Good, he found you.”

He sighed and maneuvered her around until he was gripping her at his side. Keeping a firm hand on her waist he led her out of his office and onto the walkway that lead to the library tower. Mentally checking the schedule for the day he prayed that most people would be in the dining hall and he could get her to her rooms with minimal fuss.

They had just made it to the main hall when she stumbled to a stop, her fingers digging into his belt in an attempt to stop him also, and her body twisting as she gave an exaggerated look around.

Seeing only a small group of people near the throne, she turned back towards him and lifted her hands, bracketing his face between her palms. “Hold on, hold on. I want to look at you. I like looking at you,” she said unsteadily, her words slurred and rushed together like they all wanted to leave her mouth at once.

He rolled his eyes at the gesture but humored her for a moment before pulling her into walking again. “Yes I know, you think I’m pretty.”

She giggled at his statement, her head dropping so that her eyes watched the floor as they passed.

She didn’t speak again until he had shut the door that lead to her private quarters, blocking off the curious gazes of the nobles they had passed. She pulled away from him when the door clicked and wobbled her way up a couple of steps before doing a decidedly precarious turn to face him almost eye to eye.

“No. I mean, yes, you are pretty, like a perfect fucking statue, it’s annoying sometimes… makes me want to mess you up,” she paused and giggled again, her hands reaching out to his shoulders to steady herself. “I think of lots of fun ways I could accomplish that, but that isn’t why I like looking at you.”

He lifted his hands to hers, tucking them more firmly against him so she was stable. “I’m guessing this is where you tell me why you like looking at me.”

She gave a nod, her hair rioting into her eyes before he used his fingers to brush it back. “Yes.”

They both fell silent, and he couldn’t help the laugh that came out a moment later. “Well?”

“Well?” She looked confused before realization crossed her face. “Looking! I like looking because you help.”

“I help?”

She nodded again, almost overturning herself with the movement, and causing him to grip her arms. “I need to. Big, bloody war or whatever… as Sera would say. I go out and catch things on fire, and make bad people stop doing bad things. Finding a way to seal the rifts. Kicking Coryphulus in the ass. Very important work.”

It did sound like Sera. Maker’s breath he didn’t think he could handle her becoming more like Sera then she already was. “Yes, it is very important. What does that have to do with looking at me?”

She snorted and lifted a hand to his cheek, her gaze wandering off a moment before coming back to him. “Everything. That’s all inquisitor work. When I look at your face though, it goes away. I’m just me because all I can think about is what the best possible way to get your pants off is, or what might make you laugh. I think about you when I’m traveling sometimes, even back at Adamant, traipsing around in the fade and hearing all the whispers of everything that could go wrong. Just get this done and you can see Cullen again. I don’t know if I would have kept making it back after all those big things I did if I hadn’t known your face would be there to see again.”

“Nell-“

She moved her hand to his mouth, cutting off his words, though she leaned a bit too far with it, and had to take a moment to right herself again. “Even back before. Before we knew that Coryphenis was behind everything, and we were just pissing in the dark about what needed to be done. Sometimes I would get this flash. Wouldn’t it be nice to see the Commander? I use to try to think up ways to make you smile… almost as much as I think up ways to make you scowl. You have a very impressive frown.” She flicked a finger over his nose, laughter tumbling from her. “Your nose scrunches up.”

All he could do was stare at her. What do you say to something like that? With one rushed, half focused, drunken rambling she had utterly destroyed him. Even hearing her say she loved him didn’t compare to hearing this… this confession of need.

So he didn’t try to reply. She would probably only remember half of it anyway. Instead he stepped forward and fitted his arms around her so that he could scoop her up to carry.

She reeled at the movement, her arms going around his neck even as he lowered his forehead to hers. “I love you.”

She smiled at the words and kicked her feet as he pulled his head away and started up the steps. “Are you taking me to bed, Commander?”

“Yes, I think we’ve both done enough work for the day.”


	12. Dipomancy

“You really should get off the floor, Inquisitor. What if someone comes in?”

“It will be no different than when they see me laying anywhere else?”

The ambassador gave a long sigh and reached down to Nell’s prone form to hand her a list of names. “This is a list of the guests we know about, in order of importance, which will be at the Winter Palace. You need to memorize them.”

Nell made a face at the paper and laid it to the side with the others they had been going over. “Yes, Josie.”

If Josephine heard the sarcasm in her voice she ignored it, instead looking down at her own paper, checking off what else they needed to do. “You need dance lessons. Vivienne has agreed to help.”

“Oh, I’m sure she is ecstatic about having me in her debt.”

“Her motives are a secondary concern. We also need to work on your… diplomacy.”

The pause made her laugh, and she rolled over onto her stomach before grinning up at her friend. “I can be diplomatic, Josephine.”  
The other woman didn’t seem convinced. “I’m not saying you are rude, Your Worship. You are simply, very forward.”

“I think you mean blunt.”

Josephine looked as if she was going to reply, but she stopped herself and turned to set her writing board on her desk, then moved to sit in a chair near where Nell lay. “You cannot simply say what you want to say at the Winter Palace, Nell. The Game may seem ridiculous and pointless to you, but it is very real and very important to those that we are trying to impress. It is also the only way you will be able to find out about the assassin. It would not do to be turned out of the ball because you offended someone too openly.”

Nell rolled her eyes and sat up, turning so that she could face her advisor. “Just because I don’t enjoy talking around an issue does not mean that I don’t know how. I have spent most of my life training to be a Keeper. Do you know what that means?”

“To be the leader of your clan, and remember the old tales, yes.”

“Is that all you think we do?”

Josephine looked down and began picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I admit I do not know as much about your people as I should. It is easy to forget sometimes that you had a life before all this.”

Nell smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “It means that I learned about trade routes, and human and dwarven culture, and diplomacy, because when we do encounter other races the Keeper is the one who must speak for the clan. They are the ones who have to try and negotiate safe passage or set up trade with a village, and we have to be twice as reassuring, as charming, as well spoken as the humans because we are still the ‘dirty knife-ears’ that are going to steal their babies.”

Josephine had the grace to look offended at the summation of her people’s view on elves, but she did not deny it.

“So yes, I am blunt, because I despise playing those games when it is so much easier to say what you want and then get it, but I can play them. I won’t embarrass you, Josie, not with this at least.”

They stared at each other a moment before Josephine waved her hands. “Alright, I believe you that you have an idea of what I’m talking about, but-“

Nell groaned and flopped back to the floor, her eyes sliding shut as the woman’s voice droned around her.

“Fine!” She shouted after a minute of Josephine talking, and pushed herself up to standing. She headed towards the door as the ambassador jumped up behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“To seduce someone and prove my point.”

“What?”

“I’m going to work my, according to you, imaginary charm and talk one, or twenty, of the nobles into my bed… or maybe a closet.”

She could hear Josephine scrambling after her, and had to bite down on a smile. “And when Cullen decides he can no longer be with me because I have become a woman of ill repute, you can be the one to let him know that I had to break his heart because you didn’t believe me.”

“This is not funny, Inquisitor!”

She shoved open the door to the main hall after giving an exaggerated nod. “Oh I agree.”

It was hilarious.


	13. Work

He should be working.

He had been working.

He was still slightly unsure why he no longer was.

He had gone looking for the Inquisitor, needing her signature on a number of papers that had piled up in the weeks she had been gone, and been greeted with empty space at the desk she was supposed to be working at.

So he had searched, the stack of sacks in the attic of the tavern where the boy he could never quite remember liked to frequent, the corner near the fireplace in the main hall where Varric worked, the couch in Solas’ office, the chair in Dorian’s nook.

All the places she could normally be found were empty, and he had felt his frustration growing even as he started up the flight of stairs to Leliana’s Rookery to ask the Spymaster if she had any ideas of where their leader might be.

She obviously did, but instead of simply telling him she had pointed to the door that lead out to the tower’s ledge and continued her conversation with her spy.

So he had finally found her, tucked at the far end of the walkway, a blanket around her to ward off the chill of the mountain air, and papers set out in a half circle in front of her like some sort of ineffectual barrier.

She had smiled when he appeared, cutting off his words about things that needed to be done, and voicing an opinion of her own now that he was there with her.

And now he was tucked into the corner of the walkway himself, an elf in his arms and a blanket around them both while the paperwork they both needed to be finishing sat in a hastily stacked pile beside them.

He didn’t have time for this. Neither of them did, but that didn’t seem to stop his arms from drawing her in closer so that he could rest his chin on her shoulder or his eyes from closing as he breathed in the scent of her… smoke and heat, she often reminded him of a campfire.

"There are things to do."

"Later."

"They shouldn’t wait."

He could almost feel her body move against his armor as she laughed and turned her head, her lips ghosting over his cheek before he turned to capture them with his own.

He should be working.

He should.

Later.


	14. Curious

The one single thing she missed the most about her clan was the utter lack of things that needed her signature on them.

Creators she hadn’t even known what her signature was supposed to be until all this Inquisitor business had started.

It still made her scowl to remember the day in Josie’s office writing her name over and over again until she thought she might go cross eyed.

She only scowled more when she was confronted with the still unsigned stack of paper before her. Sure, the signed stack was bigger, but she could already hear Josie’s voice in her mind, "Inquisitor, almost is not done".

She dragged her hands over her strained eyed and stretched out her legs, her back falling against the couch she was sitting in front of, and raised her arms over her head, fingers flexing to remove the cramp holding the quill had caused.

She looked at the ceiling a moment before pushing herself off the ground. eyes searching for something, anything, to distract her.

When nothing stood out she began to wander around the room.

She contemplated going to get food but put it out of her mind, if she left now she would never come back to finish anything.

She made her way into the changing room, or whatever it was, where her wardrobe and wash stand stood, and took a moment to make a face into the mirror that hung there before turning to contemplate the metal comb and small clay jar that stood next to the wash basin.

They weren’t hers, but it warmed her a little to see them.

She had never been one for combs, content as she was with a quick run of her fingers through her hair, and she had never put anything into her hair that might try to tame it in some way.

But Cullen seemed a fan of both.

She had tried for weeks, and sent several letter while she had been out in the field, to talk him into spending at least some of his nights in her quarters. She had made several arguments for them being more private, especially after they had been interrupted more then once by oblivious guards, and had all but given up under his continual statement that even though their relationship was no secret it would be highly inappropriate for them to share a quarters.

But when she had returned the week before, too early in the morning for even the stable hands to help with the mounts, she had found him stretched out in her bed, his armor placed neatly on the couch by the fire.

When she had crawled into the bed with him, waking him with a none to subtle press of her still cold skin to his sleep warmed form, he had smiled and stated that he had missed her smell.

He had been there ever since, and his things had slowly been following suite.

She moved to pick up the small jar, pulling off the lid and lifting it to her nose to take a sniff, letting the subtle fragrance of lemons fill her.

She had never seen him use it on his hair, he got up far earlier then she did, but she had no doubt as to what the wax was used for. She had seen his hair after a bath, the tips curling around her fingers when she buried them next to his scalp, and the way they were smoothed out the next morning, not a lock out of place.

Curious, she lifted a finger to run through the mixture, lifting some out before setting the jar down. She smoothed it between her hands, letting it soften between her palms as she turned to the mirror.

After a brief contemplation she lifted her hands and smoothed the wax over her hair, working it in with her fingers and tilting her head slightly to see any spots she may have missed.

Getting distracted by the lock at the top of her head that refused to lay down for anything, she was more than a little caught off guard when someone spoke behind her.

"What are you doing?"

The words caused her to jump, her hip hitting the wash stand and sending the jar and comb tumbling to the floor.

She made a grab for them, which of course only caused them to riot around more before hitting the ground with a clang and crash respectively.

She stared at the mess the splattered wax made a moment before spinning to the currently laughing figure that stood by the door.

"Dread Wolf take you, Dorian! What are you doing here?"

He managed to get his laughter under control after a moment then folded his arms over his chest, grey eyes more than a little amused. ”Are you… styling you’re hair?”

"No!" The word burst out of her even as she knelt to try and scoop up the mess. Feeling her face heat she shot him another glare. "I was… curious."

"Curious? Oh…"

She didn’t like the way his voice trailed off, or the way his expression had turned calculating. Tossing the gathered pieces and mess onto the wash stand she scrambled up to thrust a finger into his chest. ”You are not to tell anyone about this.”

"Oh?" He drawled the repeated word out as he stared at her.

"No. So help me, Dorian, if I hear one word about this from anyone, one single word, I will kill you."

"Empty threat, Nellie love, you couldn’t live without me."

She glared at him, mouth twisting a moment before an idea came to her. ”Fine, then believe me when I say this, because it is true. If you tell anyone what you just saw I will make sure every piece of armor you are allowed to wear from here on out is made out of plaidweave.”

His eyes narrowed a bit at her words, and he dropped his arms. ”That stuff is repulsive.”

"Every single damn thing, Dorian, down to the shoes."

They stared at each other a minute before he finally gave a small smile. ”It might be worth it.”

She thought she might have growled at him before turning to wipe the wax from her hands onto a towel that hung by the door, let him try to call her bluff than, she had no problems with making him look ridiculous.

"Why are you here?"

"Vivienne is looking for you, you are supposed to be training your Knight-Enchanter abilities with her."

She did groan now. She would have to pick a magic specialization that involved a woman helping her that would more than love to see her dead beneath a dragon.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

She should have stuck with the paperwork.

"Fine." She made to pass him but stopped and stuck another finger in his direction. "I was serious, Pavus. Not a word."

"Dearest Nellie, you must learn to trust me more than that."

She snorted at the thought, oh she trusted him, trusted him to be who he was.

She would be lucky if the whole of Skyhold didn’t know before sundown.

"Right," she muttered before walking to the stairs.


	15. Tell Me Something True

He noticed the boy before any of the others did. He stood just off to the side of the ballroom, the light from the lamps casting strange shadows over him as he shifted uncomfortably.

By the way people moved around him, excited twitters of gossip flowing between them, he wondered if he was making sure no one else could see him.

He caught the spirit’s eye and made his way over, worry settling in his gut at the unsure look on the half hidden by hair face.

"Cole, what is it?"

"Can you come? She needs you. Dorian and Cassandra tried talking to her but she left. She doesn’t want them. She doesn’t want me either, or anyone but she needs. Her thoughts are anxious, angry, annoyed. She’s stretched to the breaking point and she wants out, but there isn’t an out here. I’m worried."

He didn’t need to ask who he was talking about, he simply told him to take him to her while the worry grew into a bigger ball.

They found her on one of the balconies, crouched at the edge of it with her head pressed into the railing and her arms folded over it. She didn’t move as he stepped out and shut the door behind him.

She was shaking.

"Nell."

She started at his voice, jumping up in a less than elegant move and spinning to face him. Her face twisted when she realized who he was.

"I’m not going back in there. I’m done. I don’t want to talk to anyone else. Isn’t that what Josephine’s for?"

"I wasn’t-"

"I mean it. I’m sick to death of their- their bullshit. If you try to talk me into it I won’t even bother with using magic on you, I’ll just stab you with my dagger."

He held up a hand, brows lowering as he watched her pace away from him. ”You don’t have to go anywhere.”

"How can people live like this? Calculating every word they say and watching, always watching. They don’t say anything. They talk and talk and nothing of any substance comes out. And it’s everywhere. Everywhere I went in there I had to do the right thing, say the right words, look at the right person. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to!"

Her words grew progressively louder, hands whipping around as she turned back to look at him, her face a never before seen mask of anxiety.

Judging by the brief glimpse of surprise he saw in her eyes before her face was covered by her hands, she wasn’t expecting it either.

"I shouldn’t have to-" Her words stopped on a broken breath and he stepped towards her, reaching out to grasp her arm and draw her into him, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as hands and face pressed into his chest.

They stood like that for several minutes, her shoulders shaking with the force of her shuddered breathing, while he tightened his arms and pressed his cheek to her hair, and felt completely incompetent at being able to do anything to help. 

He didn’t know how to offer comfort when no one had ever asked him to before.

When she spoke again her voice was muffled and shakey. ”I shouldn’t have to tell three grown adults that they need to play nice because there is a Darkspawn Magister trying to destroy the world. I shouldn’t have to blackmail them to get them to behave.”

He turned his head enough to press a kiss to her hair. ”No, you shouldn’t.”

"They called me rabbit, like I should think it’s some sort of endearment. Even after knowing who I am. They called all the elves that. We aren’t fucking fluffy animals, we’re people, and I still had to play their game, even knowing they were insulting me as well they could without saying it directly to my face."

It angered him to hear it, made him want to ask who so he could find a sword and stab them. He tightened his hold more instead.

She dropped her hands from her face and slid them around him to return his embrace, her face scrubbing a bit at the front of his coat, muffling her even more. ”I don’t think I can do this, Cullen. Not this. I’ll kill whatever you all want me to, but I don’t know if I can do another night like this.”

"I don’t think you will have to, but if it helps you did a wonderful job. With all of it. You were amazing."

A humorless laugh beat against his chest. ”I don’t care,” she spat out vehemently. ”I don’t care if I was the fucking belle of the ball. I don’t want this to be the thing I am good at. It’s enough that I have to smile and play nice with the people we get at Skyhold.”

"Of course." He pulled back enough to put a hand to her chin and tip her face up. She looked exhausted, her face pale behind her tattoo and freckles, causing both to stand out in stark relief. "I’ll personally turn down any more invitations you might get."

She sent him a tired smile and ducked herself back into his chest. ”I wanted to set every single person that asked you about being single tonight on fire.”

He did laugh at that, and felt her follow suite. ”I would have let you.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair and kissed it again. ”I will say that I enjoyed watching you dance. You were beautiful.”

He felt her hands clutch at his back before she spoke. ”Do me a favor. Tell me something true. Don’t dress it up, or try to make it pretty. Just tell me something I don’t have to parse out the meaning of.”

"I love you."

He felt her smile again. ”Besides that.”

He thought about it for a minute, not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because there was too much.

He settled on something simple.

"Vivienne sneaks apples to the horses in the stables. She doesn’t want anyone to know, I’m guessing it would go against her image, but I’ve seen her a few times when on the battlements. She spends time petting them also."

Her laugh was stronger after that, and she lifted her face and arms to pull his head down to her and press her lips to his.

She tasted like champagne, but it was a quick thing, and long before he was ready to stop kissing her she had pulled back and grinned at him. ”That might have been the best thing you could have ever told me. I’m so glad you found me.”

"As am I."

He turned his head as music began to spill out of a nearby window, the party apparently back in swing after all the excitement.

"Can we leave? I mean, do we have to stay any longer? We don’t have to wait for the others do we?"

Her words interrupted his thoughts and he looked back down at her with a nod. ”Anything you want. I’d say you’ve earned it, but first, seeing as I probably won’t get another chance…”

He pulled away from her and offered a slight bow, his hand coming up in offering. ”May I have this dance, My Lady?”

She stared at him a few seconds, her face quizzical before she replied in an amused tone. ”Of course, but I thought you said you didn’t dance.”

He gripped her fingers when she placed them in his and pulled her back to him and into a slow turn.

He didn’t dance, he would probably step on her feet or trip them into the door, but he didn’t want her whole night to have been a nightmare, and he didn’t want her only dance to have been with the enemy.

"For you, I will try."


	16. Gift

"You got me a present?"

"Don’t look too much into it. Leliana was telling me about Satinalia and how sometimes people give presents, and I just thought it seemed like a nice gesture."

"I-I didn’t get you anything," he replied lamely. Why hadn’t he thought to get her anything?

She rolled a shrug and moved over to sit in his desk chair. “I didn’t expect you to.”

When he continued to stare down at the small box in front of him, she made an impatient gesture and drew her feet into the chair. “Will you just open it. It isn’t going to bite you.”

He had been thinking about the fact that he had been so caught up with trainings and drills that he hadn’t even put thought to what time of the year it was, and she deserved better than forgotten things such as that, no matter that she would simply shrug and say they were both busy and given it no more thought.

She had gotten him a present.

He shook his head and focused back on the box before him, slightly amused at the annoyed look of impatience she was giving him. Deciding that he didn’t want her grabbing the present and announcing he no longer got it, he pulled away the lid.

The contents was a statue of a… Halla… Yes, he remembered seeing one once. It was carved out of a dark red wood, and polished to a shine, its base etched with runic symbols that he couldn’t even begin to understand.

It was very impressive, and he told her so.

She had wrapped her arms around her knees, and her fingers twisted as she watched him lift the statue and turn it over in his hands. “I know it’s silly, but I had it and I just thought…” She blew out a breath and he had to smother a laugh because if there was one thing he had learned about her, it was the fact that she was terrible at admitting to any types of romantic feelings.

"I just thought you might like it."

He set the Halla on his desk and moved to stand in front of her. “I do like it. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful, I just can’t remember the last time someone gave me a present and it was surprising.”

She shifted so she could kneel in the chair, rising onto her knees so they were closer in height. “I can’t think of when I’ve ever given someone one. Not since my brother was small and I would find him berries to eat.”

The idea made him smile and he took a step closer before settling his hands on her hips. “Allow me to thank you properly than.”

He ducked his head down, his lips settling over hers, even as she hummed in approval and lifted her hands to thread behind his neck.

It had only been a couple of weeks since their first, proper kiss, and with how busy they had both been he was still learning her, and not at the speed he wished he could since all they ever seemed to find were stolen moments and dark corners or abandoned battlements.

He caught himself trying to memorize what it was he did with his teeth on her lip that made her gasp, or the way that when he kissed her in the morning she tasted like the mint she added to her tea.

'He wanted to learn more', was his one thought as his mouth trailed from hers and down to the crook of her neck. He let his lips and teeth play over the freckles there, soaking in the shuddering breath she let out, even as his hand slid under the hem of her shirt and over the smooth silk of her back.

Her hands moved up to tangle into the back of his hair, and he had taken a step closer to her, cursing the solid barrier of his armor, when the door from the western battlements clicked open.

They didn’t jump apart so much as each of them froze in their movements with twin growls of frustration. By the time he shot his gaze to the now open door the guard was already stuttering out an apology and stumbling back out.

Unfortunately, they had left the door open.

He heard Nell laugh and looked down to her, his mind shooting to how he wanted to hunt down the guard and punch them when she eased back from him and slid down from the chair.

"This probably wasn’t the best time for that."

When was? But he understood what she meant. As much as he wanted it to not matter, the middle of the day in his office was not the time for him to show his appreciation.

However, if he didn’t get to show it soon he was very sure he would explode.

"I’m glad you like your gift, Commander."

The use of his title was a deliberate thing that he welcomed because it helped to focus him back on their present situation. “It will remind me of you.”

She gave a nod and had turned to the door before he reached out his hand to stop her. “I hope I get to show you how much I like it soon.”

"So do I."

He watched her leave then dropped heavily into his chair, his eyes on the carved animal.

Soon was not nearly going to be soon enough.


	17. Touching

She had never been big on touching.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. She didn’t mind pats on the shoulder or the occasional ruffling of her hair that so many people seemed to enjoy, but she had never understood the appeal of holding hands, or prolonged hugs, or leaning into someone while sitting by a fire.

People were hot and itchy things that took up space when she would rather stretch out, and hand holds lead to sweaty palms and the inability to move off on your own.

It’s not that she begrudged others their constant need for contact, but she was happy enough to let them seek it out far away from her.

She should have known that her thoughts on the matter would have to change when she willingly entered a relationship with someone.

He loved touching.

There were the usual small things, a finger hooking over one of her own as they went over reports, an arm bumping hers as they stood by the war table, or feet touching when they sat at a table for dinner, but he would also toy with her hair when he stood behind her in his office while she looked at the guard rotations, and slip his hand around hers if she joined him on a patrol of the battlements, and he always, always pulled her into an embrace, his cheek resting against her head for several minutes anytime she returned from a mission out in the field.

It was like he needed the contact, the pressure of her against him. She thought once, when he had kissed her breathless then simply stood with her wrapped in his arms, that it was like he had been bereft of contact his whole life and was trying to make up for it with her.

It wouldn’t be surprising.

She knew that his life had not been easy, knew that he had kept a tight reign on his emotions since his time at the Fereldan Circle. He was the type to hold himself to a higher standard, the type to have to be in control, and she couldn’t blame him after what chaos had put him through.

Their moments together were probably the only time he felt he didn’t need to be on top of the situation.

So she never stepped away from their embraces first, never told him he was too hot when he pulled her to him during the night, and never stopped encouraging him to sit with her in the quiet down times when she could lean into his chest and coax him into relaxing.

If it made him happy she could handle it, and if it helped him stay strong through the worst moments she would happily keep physical contact for as long as he wanted.

And while she told herself that it was all for him, she could admit, at least to herself, that it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it might.


	18. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT SAFE FOR WORK!  
> At all.  
> Even a little  
> It does kinda tie into "Something" though, since this is the morning Nell is thinking about.

“I want you to touch yourself. I want you to show me what you want me to do to you.”

She blew out a harsh breath at the words, her body straining towards the fingers that ghosted over her the skin of her stomach. He had trailed them up from her center, the tips leaving wet trails across her skin that left a tingling as they cooled.

He laughed softly near her ear at her attempt to get closer to his roving hand and pulled it away completely, the other leaving where it had been pinning her wrists above her head.

“Do it, Tirnel. If you want to continue I want you to show me.”

After a groan of annoyance she lowered her arms, letting her hands move over skin that was too sensitive from his teasing. She flicked her fingers over her nipples, catching the taut peaks and pulling at them until her hips wiggled in response, and her breath came faster.

She could feel his eyes on her; feel his hand where it laid passively on her arm as he leaned over her, just close enough to let her feel the heat that so often radiated from him. Shifting more towards him she made an annoyed sound when he countered by sliding away.

“Talk to me.”

His voice was a whisper over her skin and she arched again at the sound of it.

It never occurred to her to not do as he instructed.

“I want you to do this. I want to feel your hands on me, your teeth. I dream about it sometimes.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, wispy and wanting, and not at all like she sounded even when he was moving inside of her.

“What do I do in your dreams?”

She told him, her hands wandering down from her nipples and over her stomach, her mind drifting to those early morning thoughts that never failed to leave her wanting.

Her voice trailed off as her hands reached her center and the wet, wanting heat there. She wasted no time with sliding a finger from on hand inside of her, curling and pumping it so that it brushed over the spot that made her writhe. The other took a more leisurely path before circling the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, slowly moving closer until she was gliding over it in a steady pattern that had her legs tightening and her toes curling.

She heard herself moan as the pleasure grew and she tried to form words through the haze. “I dream about your mouth being where my hands are, your tongue di-dipping in..ah.. inside me. Over and Over.”

She was vaguely aware of him shifting again and then his lips were brushing her ear, his teeth skimming the point of it and causing her to whimper. “I want to see you come.”

The rumbled words had her clinching her muscles, her hands quickening their pace until she was moments from the edge.

“Cullen…”

“Let go, Nell. Let me see you.”

She called out as pleasure filled and swallowed her, and she was vaguely aware of her feet shoving into the mattress and her head tilting back as his lips traced over her cheek.

She was still riding the pleasure of it as she felt him leave her side and move over her and down, his shoulders pressing into her thighs and spreading them apart even as his hands clamped around her hips.

“Again.”

The words were muffled against her flesh and she barely had time to cry out as he lathed his tongue over her slit while her nerves still jangled from her release.

He dipped his tongue into her, lapping up the juices that had collected there before sliding his lips over her folds and to the swollen peak that nestled between them. Finding it, he grazed with his teeth, causing her knees to clutch around his head, before pulling back to run his tongue over it as he slid a finger into her waiting warmth.

He coaxed her through the aftershocks of her first release and began to build the pleasure again, his tongue matching the steady rhythm of his fingers. He brought her back to the cusp and then slowed, his touch becoming light and causing her to call out, her hands reaching down to clamp into his hair and give a useless tug.

She wasn’t strong enough to pull him from his purpose, and if the smile she could feel was any indication, he knew it.

And she knew that he wanted her to beg.

She didn’t at first. She always did her best to not give in, to try at tempting him to overcome his own self-control and simply give her what they both wanted, but it only worked part of the time, and when he was focused… hardly ever.

She lifted her feet to press them into his shoulders, her fingers flexing in his hair until words finally tumbled from her, the actual meaning of them lost in a babble of need.

She felt him grin again as he reapplied the pressure of his mouth and hands, bringing her back to the edge and then tumbling over it.

He was up and over her before the first wave had even finished, sliding into her clenching muscles and causing her to sob at the over stimulation.

He set a steady pass, coaxing her through her tremors and back up again.

His hands buried in her hair when she gave an exhausted whimper, and he set his lips over hers as he eased in and out of her at a steady pace.

“Cullen…” She could barely get any more out, her sweat soaked fingers sliding over the skin of his back as it bunched with his movements. “I can’t…”

“You can.”

He drew in and out of her slowly, coaxing and teasing until she was moaning into his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her feet digging into the soft flesh of his backside.

It continued longer than she thought possible, the sounds from both of them mixing in the space between them.

When he finally decided to increase his pace she could feel her limbs trembling.

He brought her over one last time, finally following himself, his fingers clutching at her scalp, the twinges of pain adding to her pleasure.

Ever the gentleman, he didn’t collapse on top of her when he finished stretching out the pleasure by continuing to pump into her, instead rolling to his back, and folding her onto his chest.

They stayed like that for several minutes, the morning chill from the open doors washing over them until he reached blindly for the blanket and covered them both. It left them in a strange cocoon of sweat and sex, the smell not entirely unpleasant, especially when the scent of lemon, which had worked into her fingers from his hair, joined them.

He buried his face in her hair, his fingers gliding over her back, and let out a contented sigh before speaking again. “Are you alright?”

She smiled into his chest and tilted her head until she could smile at him. “No.” When his brows lowered she bent to kiss his chest. “I’m not alright, I’m wonderful. Amazing, “

She heard him chuckle and let her smile widen. “You’ll have to let me return the favor sometime.”

He lifted a hand to run through her hair and continue down until it smoothed over her legs. “Could I stop you?”

“Would you want to?”

He smiled and nipped at her ear again, seeming to enjoy the tremor it caused. “No. Not at all.”


	19. I Can Make You Tell Me

She had gotten him to sit on the couch with her, and she was still pleased with herself that she had talked him into putting a couch in his office, but he was anything but relaxed.

She lifted her eyes to watch him drum his fingers on his leg even as she turned another page in her book. When he made to stand up she shifted enough to slide her legs over his lap, stilling his movements.

"Where are you going?"

The frown that had formed on his face turned towards her and he tapped his leg again. “Sera has been in here. I know it.”

She raised a brow for a moment then looked back down at her book. “Lot’s of people come in here, Cullen. That’s the problem with saying your door is open to everyone.”

"But she did something." He made another restless movement and almost looked like he was going to push her legs away but changed his mind at the last moment, instead narrowing his eyes and scanning the room. "When I find out what it is I’m going to…" He lifted an arm and waved his hand haphazardly. "Do something back."

She managed to halt her laugh, but not the smile she could feel curling her lips as she stayed focused on her book. “Eloquent.”

"You talk to her all the time, do you know anything about it?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes."

She could feel him staring at her, she turned another page.

"You know she did something in here."

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me what?"

"Probably not."

He shifted and she glanced up to see that he was facing her more fully, his brows drawn low. She looked back down.

"I think I should go for the obvious and ask why."

"Because it’s funny?"

The book was snatched from her hands and she looked at him just in time to watch him set it on the side table before circling her calves with his hands. “I could probably make you tell me.”

A laugh did escape this time as she watched him smooth his hands down to her ankles. “You are certainly welcome to try.”

He stared at her for a few seconds before giving a jerk to her legs, pulling her closer and subsequently causing her to fall back onto the couch cushions. Before she could right herself he had settled himself over her, stopping her movements and effectively boxing her in.

Since he was in his armor, as always, there was little she could do besides grip at his outer robes as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Not that she was complaining about that.

His fingers played over the fabric of her shirt, the ghosting touch teasing as his mouth skimmed down to her throat, his tongue trailing against her skin and causing her to squirm under him.

She couldn’t help thinking that she was going to greatly enjoy his efforts even as she let out a laughing breath. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

A hand wandered down and under her shirt, sliding over her skin and up between her shoulder blades, arching her into him.

"Well, if I must."

She said his name as he lifted his mouth back to hers, his teeth biting at her lower lip before his tongue slid over hers.

The knock on the door had them both pulling back, and him burying his face in her neck before he lifted himself off her completely, a grumbled “Of course” ground out under his breath.

She watched as he stood from the couch, taking a minute to straighten himself before moving to the door and opening it.

She wasn’t surprised to see Josephine, not many others would have bothered with the courtesy of knocking before simply walking in, so she reached over to grab her book and settled back into the corner of the couch as Cullen brought the ambassador into the office.

Josephine stopped as she saw her, and offered a slight curtsy. “My Lady, am I interrupting anything?”

She waved the question off and settled the book into her lap. “Not at all.”

"I was talking with the Inquisitor about Sera."

Josephine scrunched her face in annoyance and sent a pointed look to Nell. “Don’t tell me you helped her do something in here also.”

"Helped?"

She looked back at Cullen and rolled her eyes. “They thought it would be funny to place a bucket of water over the door to my office.”

Nell slid from the couch and moved to the door, offered a wave as she went. “I told you, Josie, I didn’t help, I just… offered moral support. Anyway, I’ll let you two talk, I’m sure I’ll see you at dinner.”

"Inquisitor."

Cullen’s voice stopped her, and she glanced back even as her hand closed around the door handle. “Yes, Commander?”

"We’ll finish our discussion later."

His words sent a thrill down her spin and she gave him a tilted smile before stepping out and pulling the door shut behind her. Safely on the battlements she leaned against the door, her smile widening.

She couldn’t wait.


	20. It was Different

It was different.

He had watched her leave countless times since she had first joined them in Haven.  She was constantly needed to go and close rifts, or settle debates, or rescue someone.  It was part of being the Herald, and later part of being the Inquisitor, and he was use to it.  

He could admit now that he always missed her when she was away, worried for her, thought about what she might be doing far too often, but it was something that was easily pushed to the back of his mind because of duty and responsibilities, and all those other things that she would make a face at if he mentioned.

So he would be there with the others to see her off when she left, and he always enjoyed seeing her return, the wide smile she would send him, the way she would get just a little too close and ask him if he had missed her in that joking tone that made it easy to laugh off the worry that he didn’t think was right to admit to.

But this time was different.

This time when she left there was something new between them, something small and unsure but there and more real than anything else he had ever experienced, and it was suddenly as if all those feelings he kept at the back of his mind while she was away were no longer content to be ignored.

He watched her leave as he usually did, his fingers itching to pull her towards him, to wrap her up and tell her to be safe, to come back to him.  He wanted to kiss her just before she mounted her horse and rode away so that he could hold the feeling of her lips on his for as long as possible after she was out of sight.

But he couldn’t.  It wasn’t right.  She was the Inquisitor and he was the Commander and they needed to be professional in front of the Inquisition followers because that was what was expected.

It didn’t help him feel any better to remind himself of that though, because she was his now, insofar as she could ever be anyone’s, and he could lose her.

She could never come back from this mission and the last memory she would have of him, and he of her, would be a quick ghosting of a kiss in a side corridor before she had rushed away to ready her horse.

So he thought of her too often while she was gone, got asked too many times if he was paying attention, had to rewrite too many reports.

When Leliana came to him, a far too knowing look on her face, to let him know that the Inquisitor’s party had been seen coming up the mountain path, he had thanked her, thanked her and then blew out a long breath because she was safe.  She was back, and all of the worst things he had thought of had not come to pass.

He made himself linger before going to the courtyard, made himself stand beside the other Advisors as the gates were raised and the small party of riders filed in.

His eyes searched her out and locked on as she slid from her horse and glanced around.  When she met his gaze she smiled.  It was just as wide as it ever was, and he felt himself settle, suddenly realizing how very much he had needed to see her.

She made her way towards them, and he braced for the too close standing, the humored words.  What he wasn’t prepared for was the way she grabbed his face, pulling him forward until their lips met and slanted against each other.  His hands came up automatically, curling against her waist before drawing her closer.

It lasted only a handful of seconds before she was leaning back, her smile still in place as she looked him over.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

A cough drew his attention and he looked over to see Leliana’s amused eyes and Josephine’s wide ones.

Suddenly he remembered where he was, where they all were, and turned his head to see more than a few people staring at them.

He could practically see his plans for discretion in their relationship burn to cinders, and he desperately groped for something, anything, to say that might help the situation.

And then he saw the smiles, and the whispers as people went back to whatever it was they needed to be doing and wondered if perhaps it wasn’t quite as bad as he had thought it might be.

He hated knowing there would be gossip, but there were worse things to endure, like not kissing her at all, ever.

He heard words being said to him and focused back on the woman in his arms.  She was saying that she needed to take care of her horse and her things and that she would meet all the Advisors in the war room in just a little while, and then she was offering greetings and goodbyes to the women beside him before squeezing his hands and moving away.

He watched her head to the stables, her gait as easy as when she had left, and he couldn’t help smiling at it.

It was different, but a good different.

He hoped it never went back to the same again.


	21. Nicknames

Nell hummed in contentment and stretched against the man she was currently sprawled over, her back arching a bit as he ran a hand down her spine and then back up again, the tips of his fingers tickling her sweat cooled skin.

It was rare that they stayed awake long enough to simply enjoy the silence after tumbling into bed with each other, considering they were usually both exhausted by the time they managed to make it to bed at all, but after her having been gone for nearly two months neither was in much of a hurry to end the homecoming.  Especially when it had involved waking him up in such an entertaining way.

“I was thinking about something while I was gone,” she stated into the skin of his chest before turning her head enough to see the bottom of his face, and the way his lips tilted slightly at her words.  “Oh?”

“Mmhmm.  I was wondering if we should have nicknames for each other.”

She felt his chest rumble in a laugh and his hand moved from her back to her hair, twirling one of the short pieces through his fingers.  “Really?”

“Sure.  That’s what people do isn’t it?  I remember one couple in my parent’s clan who called each other Snoogums and Dearest”

“Please don’t tell me you want to call me Snoogums.”

“So Dearest is alright?”

“No.”

She lifted her hand from where it rested against the bed and trailed it over his side.  “I could call you Cully-Wully like Sera does.”

She felt his fingers still in her hair while his breath clogged in his throat, causing him to wheeze.  When he finally spoke his voice was filled with disbelief.  “She does not call me that.”

She smiled, watching his mouth twist with his words before leaning down to nip at his collar bone.  “Oh, I promise you she does.”

“Maker’s breath.”  The hand not in her hair came up to rub over his face.  “That might be the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

She couldn’t help laughing, the sound lacing through her words.  “It’s kind of adorable.”

He simply groaned in response.

“Fine, no Cully-Wully.”  She fell silent for a moment as she thought then poked at his ribs.  “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“My dear?”

Hearing the phrase that Vivienne loved to drawl at her in her oversweet tone before pointing out yet another thing she thought Nell was doing wrong caused her to scowl.  “Don’t even think about it,” she started, annoyance clear in her tone, as she folded her arms over his chest and pushed up to glare at him.  When she was greeted with a smugly amused grin she stopped.  “Oh, ha ha.  Joke.”

He laughed as he dropped his hand from her hair and his palm smoothed over her shoulder blade and down to her waist.  “I thought it was funny.  You already call me your lion to everyone else, what’s wrong with that?”

“Call you lion all the time?  To your face?”  She tilted her head to study him, all golds and shadows in the dying light of the hearth fire. “No… no that would be weird.”

He gave her a skeptical look, and deadpanned his response.  “Yes, it’s much less odd for you to have a nickname for me that you use when talking to other people, and that they then use when speaking to me.”

She pushed herself further up him and pressed a quick peck to his lips.  “See, you get it.”

“Of course I do…”  He rolled his eyes and pulled her back to him for a longer kiss.  “I can call you magey-poo.”

She snorted out a laugh at the phrase and shook her head.  “Creators, no.”

“Sparkle fingers.”

“No.”

“Lovely magic flower?”

“What?  Ew.”

“My beautiful bundle of death and fire?”

“Where are you even getting these from?”

He chuckled at the face she sent him and then brought her down for another kiss.  “How about this.  I’ll call you Nell, and you’ll call me Cullen.”

“Cullen-Wullen.”

“No.”

They smiled at each other for a moment before she spoke again.  “Cullen and Nell aren’t very entertaining.”

His hand sought hers out, their fingers tangling before he brought them up to ghost his lips over the back of her palm.  “We can entertain ourselves in other ways.”

She sent him a look of mock uncertainty and lowered her chin to her arm.  “If you really think so…”

“Oh I do, my glittering elven star.”

She scrunched her eyes shut and groaned before letting herself laugh.  “Fine, fine.  Cullen and Nell.  It does have a certain ring to it.”

“I think so.”

She let herself slide into the space at his side, snuggling closer when his arm fitted around her, and rested her head against his shoulder.  Cullen and Nell.  Yes, she had to admit, she liked it very much.


	23. He Would Never Hurt Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be on the safe side, I'm putting a warning here that this chapter has mentions of abuse and torture and death. Nothing graphic, but I want to make sure no one is taken by surprise or triggered by anything.

He could smell the death around him, even through the fuzzy light of his prison. He had thought he might have been use to it by know, but no. It never got easier to breathe, never faded from his mind even as he clinched his eyes shut and prayed that it would go away.

Prayer was all he had left, everyone, everything else had been taken from him, leaving him a barely stitched together version of himself in a too small cage. He prayed for it to be over, for someone to find him, for the Maker to take him to his side.

Even death was not allowed.

No, instead he was besieged while the Maker still held his gaze away, and so he suffered. He cried out to empty halls as the demons moved over and around him. He clutched his fingers into the cold stone of the floor until they bled while whispers of temptation and promises of release were echoed quietly in his head.

Give in. Give us what we want.

It was all too much. How long could he hope to hold out against them? He said the chant, over and over, until his tongue felt numb in his mouth and his voice was a harsh rasp that burned with each word, and then he pleaded, the words silent from too much use.

He had lost track of days, weeks, maybe months, by the time he realized there was a group in front of him that was no trick of the demons that plagued him. They wanted to save the tower, wanted to save the mages, as if such monsters could be saved.

They did not know, did not see the depravities that the mages had released on his brothers, on him. He could still feel their hands on him, icy echoes of temptations that still seared his brain and heated wounds that had caused him to be sick more than once from the overwhelming pain.

He begged them to reconsider. Begged them to end the terrors that he had seen for too long. Mages couldn't be trusted, couldn't be people.

Couldn't be.

He was surprised when they agreed, the leader's blue eyes turning hard in her tattooed face as she promised him retribution, promised to let him help. He stuttered out a thank you to her even as part of his mind wondered why none of it seemed right.

He wasn't sure how they removed the walls of his cell, wasn't sure how they got him to his feet when they ached so much and tried to crumple beneath him, but they did.

They gave him a sword and shield and drew him up the stairs with them, and he went, his steps stumbling and a fever growing inside of him. He could help kill them, help rid the world of this plague. They couldn't be left to hurt others, couldn't be left to live as people, like nothing had happened, like they hadn't created so much pain and death.

They needed to die. Every last one.

The Harrowing chamber was full, mages and demons mulling together in some sort of ritual that should never be allowed.

He leaned against a wall, his arms aching from trying to hold his weapons aloft, and his eyes searching for his targets even as he heard the group's leader shouting at Uldred.

There was a group of mages huddling in the corner, fear clear on their faces. Not to be trusted. The words repeated themselves like a mantra in his head. The fear was a lie. They could all be abominations. They probably were.

He scanned them again, his gaze lingering on a rust colored head, moving down to a pair of turned away eyes that he couldn't quite see the color off. They belonged to a woman, an elf, and doubt bit at the back of his mind.

She shouldn't be here.

He knew her. Not like he knew the other mages of the tower, but he knew her, and he knew she shouldn't be in this place. This was wrong.

This was wrong.

Fighting broke out around him, and the doubts melted away as he raised his sword to join. This was righteous, this was right. These mages had fallen to demons and Templars could not suffer abominations to live.

He cut through them, systematic in his movements, remembering every jeer of his captivity, ever hurt, every invasion.

He froze when his sword raised itself over the elf from before, watched as fire licked at her fingers and then died as she froze as well, words half forming on her lips before one of her hands reached out towards him, imploring, confused, terrified. There was shouting around him, the people helping him telling him she was the last.

Kill her. Kill her.

He could not let the possibility of possession leave this room, couldn't hesitate, and so his sword slashed down, red splattering out across pale freckled skin. She crumpled before him, her eyes wide and lifeless, the purple of her irises dimming with death. It made his brain scream. He knew those eyes. He knew her. How? How?

She shouldn't have been here.

He was screaming, somehow giving voice to the wrongness even when he could feel his throat bleed with the effort to make sound.

She shouldn't have been here.

The world clouded around him, darkness sucking him in and up even as he fought against him. He could hear his name coming from far away, could feel warm fingers gliding over his sweat soaked skin and he fought against it.

Not more demons.

Just kill him. Please, just kill him.

When his eyes opened again he was in a bed, arms struggling weakly against something. Someone?

Words washed over him, the tone soothing as he tried to suck in breath, tried to remember what was going on, where he was. He could tell his gaze was frantic as he whipped his head around, the walls and furniture familiar as reality set back in. Skyhold. He was in Skyhold.

And the voice... He turned to see her as she pulled her hands back from him, words still falling from her mouth. He was safe. Everything was all right.

He stared at her, rust colored hair, eyes the color of berries, and skin that wasn't wet with blood.

Whole, alive.

He had killed her.

The thought repeated itself and he closed his eyes again with a groan, hands reaching out blindly to drag her to him so that he could bury his face against her, could feel the beating of her heart against his chest. Apologies tumbled from him until he was babbling, even as he tried to shake the image of her dead in the tower from his head. Her hands reached up, silencing his words before stroking over his back, his arms, his face.

He loved her, he would never hurt her, it was just a dream.

She said it over and over until it began to replace the haunting thoughts of death and he had started to relax.

She pulled back and reached for an edge of the discarded blanket to wipe the moisture from his face, and he was unsure anymore whether it was sweat or tears. His eyes ached with pressure at the attention, at the obvious caring behind it, and new fear set in. He should leave, leave her bed, leave her life. What if he hurt her? What if he forgot her? What if it all became too much?

A hand stopped him from rising, and she curled herself around him, fingers drawing lazy patterns over his chest even as she hooked her leg around his in a familiar gesture.

He let himself settle with her, exhausted even after being asleep.

He curled an arm tentatively around the slim body that was attached to his, her words from earlier repeating over and over in his mind.

He loved her, he would never hurt her, it was just a dream. He loved her.

He would never hurt her.

He wanted desperately to believe it.


	24. Hand Holding

“This is weird… Why is this weird?”

He glanced down to the woman at his side as she spoke.  She was right, this was weird.  He couldn’t get his shoulders to relax, and the stiff immobility of them was causing an ache down the center of his back.  He also didn’t know what to do with his hands, when had he ever worried about what to do with his hands?

She had offered to join him on his patrol of the battlements, something new to do he supposed, not that he was complaining.  After their talk, and other far more entertaining things, the day before he was hardly going to pass up the chance to get her alone again.

Not that he had any ulterior motive to wanting her alone; it was just nice to spend time with-

“Cullen?”

His thoughts broke off at the sound of her voice and he blinked at her.  “What?”

She laughed and drew to a stop, her eyes assessing him a moment before her smile widened.  “You’re blushing.”

“Am I?”  Now that she mentioned it he could feel the telltale heat rising over his face.

Andraste preserve him, one would think he could handle being around her without blushing.

He took a deep breath and reached up to scrub at his neck.  “You’re right… this is far more awkward than I had planned.”

“So you had something planned?”  Her smile had taken on a decidedly amused edge and he felt his face heat even further.

“N-No!  Of course not!”  At her raised brow he plowed on.  “Not that I haven’t thought… I-I mean…”  He trailed off and tugged at the back of his hair in frustration.  “I’m very bad at this.”

She laughed again, the too loud sound of it bouncing off the stone around them.  As it faded she looked around then stepped closer to him.  “I think I know what will help.”  She reached up to his shoulders and tugged him down until their lips met.

It did help, almost immediately, and his hands moved automatically to her jaw, tilting her head up so that he had better access to her.  The feel of her mouth against his did something to settle the uncertainty in him, though he wasn’t sure why.

As his hands dropped to smooth over her arms and settle at the small of her back he wondered if it was because she felt so right against him.  He had held back from her for too long, knowing that he didn’t have to now… It was almost too much to believe.

He pulled back from the kiss instead of deepening it, as part of him desperately wanted to, and let himself grin down at her even as she asked him if he felt better.

“I do.  We should… continue the patrol.”

“Of course, Commander.”

He reached for her hand automatically, capturing her fingers in his before resuming their walking.

They were silent for several minutes as they made their way through another abandoned room, and he took the moment to mentally assess what they might use it for before walking out the other side and pulling the door shut behind them.

They had made it to a still slightly crumbled part of the battlements, the way blocked from continuing on, and stopped at the abrupt drop off that the tumbling rocks caused.  It was where they were supposed to turn around and go back, and he started to say as much to her when she flexed her hand in his and distracted him completely.

“You know.  I’ve never done this.”

“Gone on patrol?  That’s a bit hard to believe seeing as I’ve seen you doing it.”

He laughed under his breath and lifted their joined hands.  “No, this.”

She seemed genuinely confused by the statement, her lips tilting slightly as if she thought he was telling a joke.  “Really?”

He shrugged and offered her a smile.  “Not since I was a little boy being lead around by my mother or my sister.  When would I have?  Templar training doesn’t really give time for casual strolls with sweethearts and since….”  He shrugged again.

She stared at him a moment then gave a nod.  “I guess that makes sense, but if this is your first time you really should get the full experience.”

“The full experience?”

She nodded again and pulled her hand from his so that she could tug at his glove.  “You know, I’ve been wondering about your hands since we met.”

He watched her remove the leather and flexed his fingers uncertainly as they hit the air.  “Have you?”

“Yes.  I’ve wondered if they would be smooth or rough, or if they will be a little too pale since you always have them covered, but that not the point at the moment.  The point is that you can’t really know what it’s like to hold someone’s hand unless you do it skin to skin.”  She pushed the glove into his belt then slid her hand over his until they were palm to palm, her fingers laying flush against his before sliding to hook between them.  He focused on the feel of it, the way her skin was warm against his and the way the callouses she had from her staff caught at the ones from his sword.

He wondered if it should be unpleasant, especially with how he could feel the hollow between their palms grow hot and start to verge on humid, but it wasn’t.  He rather thought he would enjoy doing it more often.

He tangled their fingers more tightly together and used the point of contact to tug her forward, his free arm wrapping at her waist and capturing their joined hands between them as he kissed her.

She smiled against his lips, chasing after him as he pulled away to kiss him again.  When they did finally break apart she tilted her head and ran one of her linked fingers over his knuckle.  “Well, what do you think?”

He didn’t understand the question at first, his attention preoccupied with her mouth and the way he could just see the tip of her tongue as she bit it between her teeth a moment with her smile.  “What do I think of what?”

She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes and chuckled at the question, her hand pulling his up so he could see them.  “Of hand holding.”

“Of course, right.”  He cleared his throat and willed himself not to blush again.  “I-I like it.”

Her smile widened and she dropped their hands so they hung beside them.  “Good to know.”

He started walking, tugging her along with him so that their hands stayed connected and their arms bumped against each other.  “Maybe you can… I mean you should come with me on my patrol again some time.”

He felt her fingers shift and folded them into his before leading her back through the door to the abandoned room.  When they were enclosed within it she reached out with her free hand to wrap around his arm and lean into him.  “I would very much like that.”

He smiled down at her and took a moment to kiss the crown of her head.

So would he.


	25. I was Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very NSFW, and completely pointless. I'd run away now if I were you.

It was still dark when she woke, the dim light of the moon casting a pale glow around everything. The fire in the hearth had apparently died out long ago, and the almost too cold air from the mountains had crept in from the open doors and settled within the room.

She watched her breath puff out above her for a few moments before shifting deeper under the blankets and shooting a look to the fireplace that had a small spark catching and growing. It would take a little while for the heat of it to reach the bed, but she didn’t dare start it larger. The hearth stones were still stained black from her last attempt at that.

She assumed that it was the cold that had woken her, and she turned to see if her bed companion had been similarly affected. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see that he wasn’t, the man had slept for months in a room with a hole in the roof after all, what was a little cold air?

No, Cullen was still sound asleep, the blanket thrown low over his hips, and his arms splayed out at his sides. His face was smooth and relaxed, a sign that no dreams were disturbing him, and she could just make out the faint sound of his breathing over the whistle of the wind outside.

She curled onto her side and watched him as she waited for the heat of the fire to reach them, her gaze skimming over his chest and the steady rise and fall of it. Unable to help herself, and still more cold than she liked, Nell scooted herself closer, dragging a blanket with her, until she was flush against his side, her arm propping under her so that she could look down at him. Cullen shifted in his sleep to make room for her, turning a bit to face her even as his arm fitting against her back.

Nell smiled at the movement, glad for the heat of his palm against her cool skin, and lifted her hand to slid it over his chest and down over the plan of muscles that covered his stomach. She let her fingers dip into his navel then trail down the line of hair that started below it.

Keeping her fingers above the blanket, she let them ghost over his cock, grinning at the way it twitched with the faint contact, then settle on his thigh and knead the muscles there.

Cullen shifted again and sighed, his fingers scratching lightly at her back as she leaned over and ran her lips across his collar bone and down over his skin to his stomach. Running her tongue over the ripple of muscles there, she tugged at the blanket until it slid off of him. She let her hand move back to his member, the tips of her fingers sliding over him in a circular pattern until he had started to harden and his hips had begun to strain upwards towards the too light contact she was making.

Smiling against his skin she moved her mouth down so that it could take over for her hand, her lips sliding along the underside of his length before she skimmed her teeth lightly over the tip. She felt his hand work against her back again as his hips arched towards her, a stuttered breath escaping him as she licked at the head, the salty taste of him spreading over her tongue.

It only took another run of her mouth down and then back up over his skin for his hand to move to her head, his fingers gripping and tangling in her hair as he started to wake.

Nell felt him tense, could tell he was trying to figure out if he was dreaming, even as his sleep deepened voice broke the silence. “Nell? What?” He stuttered out an in articulate word as she curled her tongue around him. “Maker… What…What are you doing?”

She smiled against the ridge at the head, her eyes shooting to the side to see his flushed face and darkened eyes. “Waking you up,” she murmured, her breath ghosting over his skin, then took him into her mouth.

He let out a groan at the action, his hand fisting more tightly in her hair, his nails making sharp pinpricks against her scalp. She drew him further into her mouth then back out again, her tongue pressing firmly against him as it worked down and then back up.

When his hips bucked into her and his breath was seething through his teeth, she pulled away from him, her tongue darting out to give him one final pass as his hips continued to strain towards her.

“Are you awake yet?” The words were said on a chuckle as his hands moved to her shoulders and pulled her up and over him, his mouth seeking hers out even as he gave his reply.

“Yes.”

She sank into the kiss, her tongue gliding along his bottom lip before dipping into his mouth to play with his, but she didn’t let herself linger. Instead she pulled away, sliding herself back down until the hard length of him was fitted against the folds of her heat, the wetness of her making it easy to slide against him. “Good.”

Nell braced her hands against his chest, her lips curling into a smile as she slid forward and then back, watching as his eyes slid closed, his lashes dark against the pinked ting of his cheeks. She let her own eyes close after that, focusing on the feel of him rubbing over the bundle of nerves above her core and the way his hands gripped into the flesh of her thighs.

She pressed herself more tightly against him, feeling the pressure building in her until it finally broke, pleasure washing from her center and out through her fingers and toes. He continued to rut against her as she arched back, a cry pulling from her lips, coaxing her through the aftershocks.

Even as the pleasure began to ebb she felt him shifting, his arms coming around her as he rose to sitting and pulling her into a kiss. His teeth bit at her bottom lip, tugging lightly before he drew her deeper.

Cullen’s hands slid down her and back to her hips, lifting her easily and then pulling her back down so that she sank over him, his cock filling and stretching her and causing her to call out again. He froze for a few moments, his mouth skimming from hers to play at the pulse in her neck before sliding further down, his movements arching her back enough so that he could take one of her nipples into his mouth.

He bit lightly at the straining nub before circling it with his tongue. She wiggled against him, her hands moving to his shoulders as he continued to suck and toy at her breasts, causing her to clinch around him.

As if taking that as a cue, he began to move her, his hands gripping into her buttocks as he lifted her and brought her back down steadily. It was a slow rhythm, one that had the pleasure building back up at an almost crawling pace, and it went on for a long time, longer than she thought was even possible.

But finally, finally, it began to quicken and she circled her arms around his neck so that she could draw him into another kiss as she began to move herself.

Their movements became erratic as the speed picked up, and she heard him mutter against her mouth, some half formed curse or prayer, even as her pleasure crested around her. She felt him pump into her a few more times, his pace stuttered and words still tumbling from his lips, before he emptied himself into her.

They stayed locked together for several minutes, their cheeks resting against each other. Finally, she felt him tilt his face forward, his teeth skimming her shoulder and giving her a light bite. “Can I ask what that was for?” His voice was still slightly sleep roughened and a little breathless, but she could hear the smile in it, so she leaned back and grinned at him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.”

“And I was cold.”

He laughed and let himself fall back onto the bed, pulling her with him so that she was sandwiched between his arms and his chest. She felt him move and then a blanket was pulled over her shoulders, cocooning them both in warmth.

“You know, you could have just curled into me, or made the fire bigger.”

She pressed her lips to his chest then turned her head so she could snuggle closer to him. “I could have. This was better.”

He made some non-committal sound and stroked a hand down her spine. “Yes. It was.”


	26. He Deserved Better

She stared at Blackwall’s down turned head for a long time.  She had exhausted all of her questions for him long ago and the broken man in front of her had not offered his own words without prompting since the first moment she came to speak to him days ago.

And so they sat, as they had for days, both weighted under the silence of what had been done, and what was still being unsaid.

She had always liked the soldier in the cell across from where she sat, her back cold against the stone walls of the dungeon.  They both detested idle chatter, and he had shown amazing trust in her even from the beginning, and he had always been willing to let her sit in his space, her thoughts her own, when she was having a bad day and hadn’t wanted to talk about her feelings as so many of the others would want her to.

It made her heart ache to see him now, his form crumpled on the floor of his cell, his hands lightly gripping the bars, when only last week she had been helping him to paint a wooden griffin for the children of the refugee camp to play with.

She looked away from him, her hands coming up to rub over her face and then her hair as she heard murmurs of words coming from the front room.  She scratched at her scalp as a soldier appeared in the corridor doorway and made his way to her.

“Inquisitor.”  He offered a half bow, his gaze not quit meeting her own, before he continued speaking.  “You asked that we let you know when Commander Cullen arrived.”

“Thank you.”  The words are pushed out tired and soft as she stood and took a step towards Blackwall, because she still can’t think of him by any other name.  “I’ll be back.  We’ll… we’ll figure this out.”

He didn’t answer her, and she didn’t expect him to.

The guard led her out of the cell block and to a side room, holding open the door for her as she made a vain attempt to smooth her hands over the hair that she knew was wild from her constant tugging and scrubbing.

She heard Cullen thank the guard and dismiss him, waiting until the door shut with a soft click before pouncing on her.

His gloved hands came up to bracket her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks and under her eyes even as he looked her over.  “Have you slept at all?”

It was so good to hear his voice, the rich timber of it laced with concern that had her wanting to lean into him, let him comfort her, and forget that one of her companions was sitting in a dank cell waiting for his death.

But she didn’t have that luxury, not if she wanted to help him, so she reached up her hands to draw Cullen’s away, squeezing them briefly before shaking her head and moving away.  “No, but I can do that later.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he took her cue and stepped to the table, rifling through a stack of papers before offering her one.  “Leliana sent a report on Thom Rainier.”

She stared blindly down at the parchment, the ink smearing as her eyes crossed.  She reached up to rub them with her free hand.  Cullen was right, she hadn’t slept, not in days, and it was taking its toll on her.

She couldn’t even keep her thoughts focused.

“Summarize it for me.”

He did so, but she barely heard him.  She knew that she asked questions, the right ones at the right times, but she didn’t actually know what she was saying, or hear his response.

“Bl-Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don’t have to.  We have resources, and if he was released into our custody you could judge him for yourself.”  He brought his hand up to her shoulder with his words, his fingers flexing into her skin in some vain attempt at comfort.

She didn’t look up from the report.

Instead, she stared harder at it in an attempt to focus her thoughts.  “What would you do?”

“What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable,” he spat out behind her, his hand tightening on her skin as he spoke, “he betrayed their trust, betrayed ours.  I despise him for it.”

“What right do you have to despise anyone for their past?  Weren’t you the one who once said that mages couldn’t be seen as people?  What things did you do to those under your watch that you would consider unacceptable now?”

Shit.

Her thoughts had been distracted and she hadn’t meant to say that.

She sounded bitter to her own ears and she regretted the words even as they fell from her lips.  Cullen stiffened behind her, his hand flexing a moment before dropping away.  She turned to face him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to think of something, anything, that might help her scramble after the words and take them back.

There wasn’t anything.

She winced at the way his face shuttered, his hands going to the pommel of his sword and his back straightening as he stared at her with expressionless eyes.  “Cullen…I…”

He gave a shake of his head, his voice even as he cut her off.  “Point taken.  What is it you would like us to do, Inquisitor?”

She wanted to apologize.  She wanted to toss herself at him and beg his forgiveness.  That had been unworthy of her, and of him and how far he had come.  But she had a feeling he didn’t want to hear it, so she looked away instead.  “I want to get him out.  Have him released to us.”

She watch Cullen nod from the corner of her eye then move to gather the papers from the table.  “We should head back to Skyhold then.  We can go over our options with the others there.  I’ll meet you at the stables.”

He left without another word, and she cursed herself again.

She left herself a few minutes later, blinking at the bright daylight of outside as she was immediately surrounded by Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian.

“Commander Cullen told us that you all would be heading to Skyhold.  What would you have us do?”  Cassandra’s voice was business like enough to be comforting; if there had been anything off about Cullen’s words to them she wasn’t showing it.

Nell shook her head and rubbed at her face a moment before replying.  “No… yes, actually.  Stay here.  Make sure they don’t do anything with Blackwall until you hear from us.  Don’t let them kill him.”

They all nodded at her words, though Dorian and Varric were both frowning at her and she had no doubt they wanted to say more.  She shook her head again and waved them off even as she muttered something about being in touch then taking her leave.

She didn’t want them asking questions that she was not adept at lying about, and she didn’t want to say anything else to anyone that might be as harsh as what she had said to her commander.

Cullen was waiting for her at the stables, two horses already saddled, and she was surprised to see that her travel bag was hooked to one.

“I took the liberty of gathering your things.”  He stated as he pushed himself onto his horse, his face still carefully blank, and his gaze not meeting hers.  “So we can leave straight away.”

“Thank you.”

He gave a nod in response, his attention turning to straightening his seat.

He barely waited for her to settle before turning his mount and heading away from the city.

They didn’t speak for hours, the silence of their travel only interrupted by the sound of the horses’ shoes striking the stone.  Cullen rode just ahead of her and she found herself staring at the back of his head, watching as his hair turned a burnished gold in the setting light.  She couldn’t blame him for being angry, of course she couldn’t, after all she knew that he struggled with his past.  Of course she did.  Hadn’t he told her as much himself?

She was an idiot and she would be lucky if he ever even spoke to her again.

They stopped when it was too dark to see the road, both keeping up their silence as they unpacked their gear and began to roll out bedrolls. 

On opposites sides of the fire pit he was making.

Nell blew out a breath and began to pace as Cullen disappeared into the surrounding forest for fire wood.  They couldn’t just keep not talking.  It wasn’t going to help anything.  She wanted to apologize, but she wasn’t exactly sure how, and she was so tired, the thought of trying to form words that could express how sorry she was seemed almost impossible.  She wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t say something extremely stupid and make everything worse. 

It was a long time before he reappeared, and she wondered if she should have offered him one of her wisps to help light his way to make things easier, but she hadn’t and so she supposed it was just another thing she had messed up.

“Before you interrupted me earlier I was going to say that while I despised Rainier for what he had done I also had great respect for the fact that when he had the chance to shake off his past he owned up to it.”

She blinked at the words, her gaze moving to watch him kneel and begin to set the fire wood, his voice carrying back and over his shoulder to her.

“He has fought for us, and for the Wardens, and he has been nothing but a steadfast ally since joining the Inquisition.  I can’t help but respect that.”

Unsure of how to respond, Nell simply stayed quiet, her fingers tightening into her palms.

“You were right when you said that I had no right to judge someone by their past.  I don’t, but I do know what it is like to want to make up for that past, and I think… I think that is what Rainier was trying to do.”

Her hands worried together a moment before she stood to make her way over to him, crouching at his side and waving a hand at the pile of wood sparking a fire into life.  “I think you’re right.  I want him to have the chance to continue to do so…. Cullen-“

“It was Serah Hawke that told you about me not thinking mages should be people.  I said it to her once, back when she had first come to Kirkwall, I hadn’t been there long myself.”  He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes fixed on the fire as it grew.  “I meant it at the time.  Like I’ve said before, I’m not proud of who I was back then, but I won’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

She stared at his profile, the orange of the fire growing and flickering over his skin.  “She mentioned it in the context that she could tell how different you seemed now.  She was complimenting you and I shouldn’t have...  Cullen, who you were back then, it doesn’t matter.”

He gave a laugh that was completely without humor and turned to root out a few pieces of bread and dried meat from his pack.  “Of course it does.  I know the kind of man I am and the kind I was, I don’t need anyone to try and make it something it’s not,” he stated as he handed her part of the rations.  “Eat and then we need to try and get some sleep.”

They fell back into silence, and she tried to think of different ways that she could breach the gulf that seemed to have formed between them.  It had to be her, didn’t it?  It was her fault it was there, but she couldn’t think of what to say.  She had never had to diffuse anything like this before.  Keeper Deshanna had taught her how to hold her tongue so she didn’t put someone’s back up, but she had always been terrible at that lesson, and she didn’t think.  Just like she hadn’t been thinking today.

She hadn’t been thinking, story of her life.

Giving up on spanning the silence tonight, she instead crawled onto her bedroll, her back turning towards the fire and blonde man that sat beside it.  She listened as he moved around the small camp, her mind refusing to rest, between Blackwall and Cullen she doubted it ever would, not that she wasn’t use to it by now.  It had been days since she had slept more than a handful of time and she was very sure it wasn’t going to be stopping soon.

So instead she let her mind wander, her thoughts turning to Blackwall and how they might be able to convince the Orlesians to give him into their custody, and what she might do after that.  She wasn’t going to kill him, of course she wasn’t, and she very much doubted that she would exile him.  She would probably ask him to stay on, help with the Inquisition, and redeem himself.

He was her friend; she didn’t turn her back on those easily.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt her blanket lift, and turned just enough to watch as Cullen slid onto the bedroll behind her.  He had removed his armor and was clad only in a soft pair of breeches, and she held her breath as a bare arm slid around her, shifting her until she was facing him, her head against his shoulder.

She immediately curled into his warmth, her mind taking a moment to catch up, but when it did she stiffened against him.  “What?”

“You need to sleep.  You’ll be no good on the ride tomorrow if you don’t get some rest, and I would rather not have to carry you.”

His fingers began to trail along her back in a steady rhythm that made her arch against his touch automatically.  It would be so easy to just take it, to just let him comfort her and to fall into a sleep she desperately wanted in his arms.

But the gulf would still be there and simply ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away.

He deserved better.

She pushed up against him, her elbow curling under her so that she could look down at his face.  Her eyes traced the lines there, the ones around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and the ones on his forehead that did the same when he was annoyed.  Neither was doing anything at the moment, his face carefully blank, and it bothered her yet again to see him so closed off.

She said the first thing that came to mind and tried not to think of how inadequate it sounded.

“I love you.”

Cullen smiled slightly at that, the scared side of his lips tilting up even as he raised his free hand to curve around her cheek.  “I know.”

She leaned into the warmth of his palm and shut her eyes a moment before looking at him again.  “I’m not very good at it.”

“It’s alright.”

“No.”  She gave a shake of her head even as she disagreed and lifted a finger to trail over where his scar faded into his cheek.  “It’s not alright.  I shouldn’t have said that today.  It doesn’t matter how tired or distracted I was.  You didn’t deserve it.”

“It wasn’t untrue.”

She gave another determined shake of her head and reached up to capture his hand in hers.  “I’m going to say this once and probably never again because I am terrible at it so you need to listen.  I know you went through a time that you weren’t the type of person that you are very proud of, but that just shows what kind of person you are now.  You want to be better, you are better.  It's not going to help if I use your past against you and I'm lucky that you’re willing to put up with me.”

“Put up with you?”  The words sounded quizzical, and his smile widened before he lifted his head and brushed his mouth over hers.  “Is that what you think I do?”

“I think that you deserve someone who isn’t going to throw your past in your face every time she gets upset.”

He laughed for the second time that night, but this time is was much closer to sounding genuine.  “Getting frustrated with you doesn’t mean I want rid of you.  I wouldn’t trade you for anyone, no matter how agreeable they were.”

“I hurt you.”

“Yes.”  He nodded in agreement then kissed her again before pulling her back to his shoulder.  “And now you’ve apologized.”

She shifted against him, her hand coming up to curl into the skin of his chest.  “It’s just that easy?”

“Well, we might have a problem if you were doing it constantly, but I think we can work past once or twice.  I’m sure I’ll do something stupid at some point myself.”

“I love you.”  She couldn’t help saying it again, no matter that she had trouble saying it even once sometimes.  She didn’t think it had actually come out of her mouth since she had first admitted it to him now that she thought about it.

He curled his arm around her his hand settling on her waist as the other came up to grip hers where it rested on his chest.  “I love you too.”

“I’m worried about Blackwall.”

“I know.  I promise we won’t lose him to Orlais.”

“Do you really think we’ll be able to get him back to Skyhold?”

She felt him press his lips to her head and smile against the hair there.  “Yes, but not if you don’t get some rest.”

He was right of course, so she settled more fully against him and let her eyes fall closed.  “Right.  Right.  Goodnight, Cullen.”

“Goodnight, Nell.”

When she woke the next morning all she could think was that it was the best sleep she had had in weeks.


	27. The Problem with Sharing a Bed

Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition forces, was terrible at sharing a bed.

The first night they slept together she woke up before dawn because he had splayed his arm and leg over the top of her, his elbow pressing a little too hard against her spine.

She had shoved him off and gone back to sleep.

The second night she woke up with half of herself off the bed, her hand brushing the floor while his foot pressed incessantly against her thigh in some unconscious attempt to give himself more room.

She had crawled over him and curled onto the side of the bed that was left open by his migration into her space.

From there she stopped trying to keep up with the various positions they woke up in.  She knew there were more than a few gasping breathes when she had woken up more than once under him, his weight pressing her so far into the mattress that she couldn’t move, and only using strategic sparks had been able to free her.  She also knew that she had woken up on the floor once, and had spent more than a few minutes glaring at the back of his head and contemplating setting it on fire.

But she hadn’t.

She had gotten back into bed, and if her feet were unnaturally cold enough to startle him awake when she pressed them against him, well, it was his own fault really.

He apologized any time he knew about it.  Like when he woke to her cursing, her head pinned under his chest, and her legs kicking his, but well, it didn’t stop him sleeping on her hand so long the next night that it took almost an hour for her to get the feeling back to it when they woke the next morning.

Eventually it got better… sort of… in a way.  He started keeping an arm banded around her when he encroached on her side, so when she woke she wasn’t on the floor but rather anchored above it, and when he rolled on top of her anymore it was only really from the waist down.

Though she would never understand how someone managed to turn sideways in a bed, their head disappeared over the side, without waking up from the uncomfortableness of it.

So there were slow changes that meant she didn’t wake up nearly as often with bruises and aches that had nothing to do with their activities before sleep took them.

And watching him, after she had woken to a now rare hand smacking into her face, his breath even and his expression easy, she figured it was probably worth it.

Not that she didn’t heat his hand till he yelped awake just for old time’s sake.


	28. Yes

“If I was an abomination, would you kill me?”

The question greeted him as he stepped into his office, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust from the glare of the sun and focus on the figure by his desk.

She was picking at one of the books that sat near the edge of his desk, her hands restless even as she seemed to keep her gaze trained on the window.

He shook his head, confused and unsure if he had heard her correctly.  “What?”

“If I was an abomination, would you kill me?”  Her back seemed to straighten as she repeated herself, her fingers stilling on the leather she had been worrying, though she didn’t turn around.

He balked at the question.  They had gotten into many conversations, _many arguments_ , over the past months about the mages as allies and her belief that Templars weren’t necessarily needed, but they hadn’t ever…

“Don’t ask me that.”  His voices sounded weak to his own ears and he hated how cowardly it seemed.  It was different when they were talking about what ifs of people that he barely even knew, different when he thought of mages as a whole, which of course he knew would anger her to no end to hear him say.

_Mages are people, individual people, with strengths and weaknesses and loves and fears, and they deserve better.  They deserve a chance._

She had said it more than once.

“Why not?”  Her shoulders were tense under her leather jacket, stiff in their movement as she canted her head slightly, the profile of her face coming into view.  He opened his mouth to reply, but she didn’t give him the chance, instead she dropped her hands to her sides and started to one of the side doors, her steps jerky.  “Never mind, I think I know the answer.”

Her hand closing around the handle and pulling the door open shook him from his stupor and had him striding towards her before reaching out almost without thought to catch her wrist before she could leave.

She couldn’t ask that, not that, not in so vacant a way that it seemed almost casual and then simply walk away.

“No.  I don’t think you do.  It’s not so simple.”

He felt her fingers curl into her palms and clench.  She kept her face turned away, the dark russet of her hair all that he was allowed to see and it did little to tell him her thoughts.  He resisted sighing even as he let go of her.  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

He swiped his hand over his mouth and made to move around his desk.  He could almost hear her turn around and he could feel her eyes on him.  The room felt heavy as he started to move books from his chair to the desk, the air more stifling then it should be and the silence almost deafening.

“I do.”

He looked back at her then, finally seeing her face and the stark seriousness that lined it.  She looked older in that moment.  Too old, and weighted by too much, like she was slowly being crushed under everything that had happened to her and everything that they knew was still coming.

He didn’t like seeing her like that.  She was never worried, never bothered; often angry and annoyed, yes, but it never lasted long, never left an impression of sticking with her.  He remembered that Cassandra once compared it to being clawed by a sleeping cat that woke for that one moment and then immediately lost interest once it drew blood.

Now… now she was just a woman who looked like she had had entirely enough and she just wanted to know how it ended.

“Why?”  It was the only response that he could think of.

“Because I need to know.”  The words were harsh, almost as if the sound of them was scrapping her throat, and she looked away again.  “Because I’m not perfect, because there is always a chance that it could happen, and I have to know that someone will take care of it.  Dorian and Solas… they would want to try and bring me back, waste time that could get others hurt, and I don’t want that… I want…”  She trailed off, her arms folding around her waist as she shifted from foot to foot in an oddly nervous gesture.  “I would trust you to be able to handle it, so I need to know that you would.”

He made himself walk to her, his hands coming up to touch her arms but stopping before he made contact, he dropped them back to his sides instead.  She looked up at him, her expression shuttered and her eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite read.  He knew she wanted an answer, knew she deserved a promise that he would follow through with her request, but he hadn’t been lying when he told her it wasn’t simple.

He loved her.

Maker save him, he loved her more than he had even known it was possible to love someone.  She had quickly, completely, become his world, the very thing his happiness hinged on.  It wasn’t that he needed her to survive, he wasn’t so weak, but he had no delusions that he was a better person, a happier more open person with her than he had ever been before he had met her.

At the same time he knew, _he knew_ , that he would never allow himself to be so selfish as to put any of that in front of the people he had promised, no, they had promised to protect. 

No matter how much she meant to him he wouldn’t sit idly by if she ever did become the thrall of a demon.  He wouldn’t let her hurt others.  He wouldn’t let her tear down what they had created.

And he wouldn’t let her be the thing that she obviously feared becoming.

What would it do to her to think that she might turn against what she had accomplished, what would it do to him if he let her?

Besides, he had a duty, one he had promised to fulfill, and he would not turn against it, not even if it meant stopping her.

He lifted his hands again, this time moving past her arms so that he could curl his fingers against her cheeks and waited until she looked up at him.

He stared at her a few moments, his eyes tracing over her features and the lines of her vallaslin and the random spattering of freckles they cut through.  She was so beautiful, he couldn’t remember if he had ever told her that.

“Yes.”  The word hurt to say and he sounded strange to his own ears, like it was someone else who pushed the answer from his throat.

She opened her mouth to say something and he shook her head before leaning in to cover her lips with his own.  He had given her his answer, he wouldn’t change it, but he didn’t want to discuss whatever details she would parse out to talk about.

He would rather focus on now, on the fact that she was warm, and whole, and alive, and _his_.  For once in his life he wanted to not think about all the things that could and probably would go wrong, especially when they involved something like her becoming an abomination.

So he kissed her and hoped that she could want the same.


	29. Unfair

“You aren’t thinking!”

His words were shouted into the silence that had been hanging around them for several minutes, their edges tinged with hours of frayed nerves and annoyingly repeated arguments.

“Surprise!” Nell shouted back, her hands shooting above her head for a moment before she turned back to her pack, her movements jerky as she shoved an undershirt into it.  “Apparently that’s a normal thing for me; you would think you were used to it by now.”

He paced away from her then back so that he was hovering behind where she stood at the bed.  When he spoke again it took all his effort to keep his voice level.  “If you go and do this there is a good chance you will die.”

She responded with a biting laugh before facing him again.  “Oh yes, can’t have that.  Who would close all the rifts then?”

“That’s not my issue with it and you know it.”

“Then what is?”

Their voices were edging up again, and he would be damned if they got into another yelling match. Instead he reached up to grip her arms, fingers tightening just a little too much as he hauled her towards him and covered her mouth with his own.

Maker take her, he would show her instead.

Her mouth opened automatically and he angled his head so that he could take them both deeper.

Too bad she seemed to have other plans, ones that had her biting down on his tongue hard enough that he cursed before she jerked away from him.

“Unfair.  Unfair!”  She hissed out, eyes bright with anger before she turned to grab her bag and head for the stairs.

Her last words winged back at him as she disappeared.  “I know my duty, Commander.  Remember yours.”


	30. I Want You to Have It

“Cullen!”  His name was a breathless laugh that had him looking up from the paperwork on his desk to the open door in front of him and the Inquisitor that currently filled it.  “I’m barricading us in,” she continued even as she stepped further into the room and pushed the door shut behind her.  She took a moment to bolt the lock before moving to the other doors and repeating the action, all the while ignoring his curious expression.

Blocking off the outside world effectively, Nell tumbled over the side of the couch in the corner, her back hitting and bouncing against the seat before she turned to her side so she could smile at him.

“Join me?”

He shook his head at the sight of her before standing and making his way over.  He watched as she rolled back onto her back and stretched out, effectively blocking his ability to sit down, before bumping her arm that hung off the side with his knee.  “Corypheus might be dead, but there is still work,” he stated, a smile tugging at his lips when she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, but you don’t care about that.  You would much rather sit here with me because you think I’m pretty.”

“Do I?”

“Well, if you’d rather I go get one of those soldiers that moon over you I can.”  She started to rise as she spoke then chuckled as he slid onto the cushions beside her head and grabbed her lifting shoulders, pushing until she was laying again, her head now against his thigh.  “I think you’ll do.”

“Keep saying such sweet things and I might forget entirely to give you your present.”

His brows rose even as he brushed at the hair on her forehead, his fingers tracing over the tattoo lines under it.  “A present?  That’s positively romantic, Nell.”

“I can be romantic.”

The idea of her doing anything that even remotely resembled romantic made him laugh, and when she narrowed her eyes at the sound it only made it worse.  She gave a huffed breath and made to sit up so he settled his arm across her chest to hold her in place even as he struggled to contain his amusement.  “Wait-“ He coughed into his free hand and then waved it over her face.  “Wait.  I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I can tell, of you were any more sorry you’d laugh us off the couch,” she deadpanned with such absolute blankness that he couldn’t help laughing again.

“I am.  Now, what was this about a present?”

She stared at him through narrowed eyes before shifting to reach her pocket and pull something from it.  “You gave me a ring because you said that’s what people do when they get married with your Chantry.”

“I did.”  His hand moved back to her hair and she gave a pleased hum when he began combing his fingers through it.  “Is there something wrong with it?”

It wasn’t that he thought there was.  Logically he knew there wasn’t, she had told him as much, but he couldn’t help his breath stopping until she blinked up at him, confusion settling over her face and in her voice.  “What?  No.”  She lifted her hand and his gaze shifted to the silver band that rested there.  “Dagna and Harritt both do good work.  What would be wrong with it?”

“I don’t know.  You’re the one who brought it up.”  He reached out to tangle his hand with the one she had raised, the buzz of her mark teasing against his skin.  “Was there a reason for that?”

“Yes, but I think there might be other things on my mind now.”  She pulled her hand free of his so that she could push herself up to sitting.  Scooting closer to him she started pulling the buttons of his coat from their holes.

He reached up to still her movements, a smile working over his face.  “I am always a fan of seduction, Nell, but I think I’d rather know about the ring at the moment.”

“Are you sure?”  She shifted so that she could toss her leg over him, straddling his lap, and lean in so that her mouth grazed over the pulse in his throat.  “I’ve had some very interesting thoughts recently about your desk.”

“Is that so?”  He let himself grip her waist and pull her forward until their chests bumped and he could reach the side of her face that tilted up towards him and nip his teeth at the lobe of her ear.  It would be easy to give into her, especially with the way her breath stuttered against his neck, but curiosity won out so he lifted his head and pushed her back.  “I think I would still like to know what you were talking about with the ring.”

She sighed and slumped back, her eyes dropping to where her hands had fallen between them, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips.  “Fine.  I figured I should give you one too, since Josie said they’re supposed to be exchanged… So I have one for you.”

“You got me a ring?”  It was a strange repeat of what she had said to him just the week before, but he couldn’t be bothered to focus on it.

“Yes, and no.  I mean, you can’t wear this one, it would be too small.  I’m having Dagna and Harritt make you one to wear too… “  She trailed off and her hands passed something back and forth between them.  “This one is different, I was thinking about your coin and thought-“  She blew out a breath and looked up and away.  “I don’t know, here.”  She practically threw the item she had been holding at him and focused back on her hands while he lifted it to study.

It was wooden ring, though not of any wood that he could identify off the top of his head.  It was dark, near black, and looked unworn, the edges of it not yet gentled by wear.  The outside of it was carved in intricate symbols that he supposed were words, but he didn’t know the language.

“It’s the tale of how Fen'Harel tricked the other gods and locked them away.  I’ve told you it before.”  The words were soft, and he looked up to see her staring hard at the ring.

“You have.”

He started to say something more, but she cut him off, her words rushing together as if she wanted to get them all out at once.  “It’s a Keeper’s ring, a reminder for them that it’s their job to protect the clan.  I received it when I joined my clan and became the Keeper’s First.  I haven’t ever worn it, obviously, it wouldn’t be allowed until I was the Keeper myself, but…”  She rolled her shoulders in a shrug and looked off to the side, her voice growing distant.  “Well, that’s not my life anymore.”

Cullen flipped the ring over in his hands, fingers tracing over the markings.  “Nell, I don’t think-“

She gave a shake of her head, her face turning back to his so that she could send him a slightly strained smile.  “I want you to have it.”

“Are you sure?”

Her smile eased, tilting up more on one side, and she blew out a short huff of laughter.  “Are you really going to make me say it?”

They stared at each other for a moment, her unspoken words settling around them.  He could make her say them, he knew that, and knew that she would.

But she would be annoyed with it, and so it would come out joking and off hand, and she was blushing, the bright red of it staining her cheeks and making her tattoos stand out, and he was smart enough to pick up on the meaning himself anyway.

So he slid a hand behind her neck, tugging until their breath mingled together and their lips brushed when he spoke.  “No.”

She smiled against his mouth and shifted closer to him.  “Good.  Can we talk about the desk now?”

“I’m all ears.”


	31. An Off Night

It just wasn't working.

It wasn’t that they weren’t in the mood, and it wasn’t that they hadn’t tried…

In fact they had been trying most of the night.  First in the bed, then on the couch, then in increasingly interesting places and positions that ended with her gripping the ladder in her closet with Cullen perched behind her.

That hadn’t worked either.

So they found themselves back in the bed, shoulders brushing, staring up at the ceiling while the silence pushed down around them.

Cullen spoke first, his voice tight with exasperation.  “That’s not, it’s never-“

Nell tried to hold back the laugh, she did, but the whole night caught up with her at once and before she could stop herself a small sound escaped.  She could practically feel him scowl at the noise.

“Are you laughing?”

He sounded so affronted at the idea that it became harder to hold in the noise and she could feel her shoulders shaking with the effort.

He shifted in the bed until he was leaning on his arm, his face set in a grim line as he studied her.

“This isn’t funny, Tirnel.”

Something about the way he said her proper name broke the dam she had tried so hard to put up and she quickly lifted her hands to cover her face as laughter bubbled out and into the room.

She heard him sigh near her ear as he dropped back onto his back, and looked over in time to see him cover his face with his arm.  Still laughing, she shifted until her hands were pressed into his chest, her face still buried in their slightly sweaty warmth.

After taking a minute to draw in a deep breath, and a few more, she peeked up over her fingers at him. She could only see his chin and mouth, the thin line of it compressed enough that his scar was a too white mar against it.  The sight made her huff out another laugh before pulling a hand free to scratch at the stubble of his chin.

“Cullen.”

He ignored her at first, the only sign that he had heard her being a barely noticeable tightening of his fingers into his palm.  After a moment of no response she scratched at his chin again, her voice taking on an even more amused tone.

“Cullen.”

It took a few seconds, but he finally looked at her, his arm raising just enough that she could see the glint of his eyes in the firelight.

“It’s not a big deal.”

It was his turn to laugh at that, a bitter sound that had her rolling her eyes and shifting further up his chest so that she could move his arm out of the way and bump her forehead to his.

“I still enjoyed it.”

He looked skeptical, not that she could blame him, but it wasn’t untrue and when she smiled at him he reluctantly smiled back.

“Good to know, but it still isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny. I mean, we tried to have sex on a ladder.”

He blinked up at her as his smile widened slightly, an amused breath of laughter hitting her face before he tilted his head up to kiss her.  “Yes we did.”

Seeing him relax, she let herself slid to his side, her head tucking onto his shoulder as she felt his arms hook around her.  “Did we really think that would work?”

“Apparently.”

She bit back a yawn and snuggled further into him.  “Why don’t we try again in the morning.  I’m sure you can find an interesting way to wake me up.”

She heard him laugh again before he pressed a kiss to her head.  “You hate being woken up.”

“Tomorrow I can make an exception.”


	32. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cullen plans a surprise birthday party for the Inquisitor.

“She’s going to hate this.”

“Nonsense, Commander.  I think she will like it quite a bit.”

Cullen might have believed it, Dorian was her best friend after all, but he didn’t trust the amused smile that was currently stretching the mage’s face.

He had been talked, somehow, into helping to plan a party for the Inquisitor’s Name-Day.  He still wasn’t sure how it happened, but here he was, cloth streamers in hand, helping Dorian decorate the Great Hall.

It just seemed like too much, too many decorations, too many people, too much fuss.  Nell had never been one for such things, and he didn’t understand why everyone thought they were a good idea now.

Dorian seemed to pick up on his uncertainty and slapped a hand onto his shoulder.  “Don’t you trust me, Commander?”

Not at all.  Not about this, but he smiled and tried not to groan when Sera bounded by and dumped an armful of silk into his arms.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Josephine mentioned something about bows on the chairs, but she didn’t like mine.”  The elf shrugged with her words and disappeared down a side passage.

Seeing no help coming from either Dorian, who seemed busy with the streamers, or anyone else, he turned to the chairs along the nearest table and balked when he saw that the bows that were already there were tied to resemble… well… body parts that were best left in private.

Heaving a sigh he moved to a bare chair and wrapped one of the bright blue silk bands around it.  He toyed with it for several minutes before finally stepping back to survey the limp hang of cloth.

He couldn’t do this.  This wasn’t… This was a terrible idea.

With a vague mumble at the others he hurried towards Solas’ office and beyond that to the quiet comfort of his tower.

He didn’t return till hours later, waiting until the sun had set and there couldn’t possibly be more for him to do, before appearing at the edge of the Great Hall to survey the damage.

It looked like Orlais had thrown up all over everything, including the vast number of people who milled around it.

She was going to hate this.  How did no one realize that?

Giving a shake of his head he moved into the room then out of the main doors, his gaze seeking out the telltale auburn of Nell’s hair. Seeing it, he wasted no time in descending the steps to the main yard and moving to her side.

“Inquisitor.”

She glanced away from the guard she was talking to and smiled up at him quizzically.  “Cullen, can I help you?”

He nodded and reached out to grip her elbow, waiting until the guard bowed and moved away before speaking again.  “You can.  I need to speak with you, in my office, right now.”

She gave a short laugh and nodded to the steps that lead up into the Hold.  “Can it wait, Leliana needed to speak with me.”

He automatically shook his head, his grip tightening a bit. “No.  Do you trust me?”

Her reply was instant, her smile widening.  “Of course.”

He slid his hand to hers, their fingers intertwining, before pulling her after him.  He led her up the back way to his tower, a silent prayer on each breath that they wouldn’t be stopped, and tugged her through the door before slamming it shut behind them.

Taking a moment to slide the lock into place he steeled himself before turning to look at her.

She was staring at the office.

He made a restless gesture and stepped slightly past her to wave vaguely around them.

“Happy… um… Happy Name-Day.”

“You did this for me?”

He couldn’t quite make out her tone and he made himself look around, worried that he had misjudged.

The room was filled with candle light, the various candles he could find adorning every available space.  He had also cleaned off the desk, a feat in and of itself, and placed a chess set there.  He had thought she might like to play it; she was getting better after all.

“Yes.  I- I have wine, and some things to eat.  I thought… I thought you might enjoy some quiet.”

He didn’t relax until she turned to look at him, a wide grin on her face.  “It’s perfect.”

The worry in his gut left him all in a rush, his muscles relaxing even as she moved back to him, her arms sliding around his waist.  “So tell me, how bad is the Great Hall?”

The question made him laugh; of course she would know what was going on.  Nothing slipped past her.  “There are streamers and bows, and I am very sure half the population of Val Royeaux.”

She made a sound that he couldn’t quit decide was amusement or annoyance and pulled away to go and sit at the desk, her hands coming up to dance over her pieces.  “This is better,” she remarked, a look of concentration crossing her face as he went to join her.

Settling into his chair he smiled and focused on his own pieces. “I agree.”


	33. When This is Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pillow talk of hopeful future things

“Do you ever think about what you want to do when all this is over?”

It took him a minute to process her question, his brain fuzzy with the beginnings of a nap that he didn’t have time for but couldn’t quite fight.  She had talked him onto the couch, something she was becoming much too good at, and it had taken mere minutes for him to settle into the corner, his legs stretched across it, with her tucked against him.

He hummed out a response, his eyes not opening, and gave a squeeze to her waist.

“Falling asleep on me?”

“Under you seems more appropriate.”  His words were slurred and when she laughed lightly at them he forced an eye open in time to watch her mark her book and set it to the floor.

“Alright.  Falling asleep under me?”

“Yes.”  He shut his eye again and pulled her tighter to his chest.

“I can’t believe that you would rather sleep then talk about the future.”

“And I can’t believe you wouldn’t rather sleep.”

He knew she was smiling at that, a slow easy grin.  “If and when this ends,” he started, his voice growing more firm as he pushed napping to the back of his mind, “I don’t care what I do, as long as you’re there.”

There was a pause before he felt her shifting, turning until she could fold her arms against his chest and rest her chin on them.  When she didn’t say anything he opened an eye again.  She was staring up at him, her expression clearly amused.  “Yes?”

“You don’t care?”

He gave a shake of his head and closed his eye.

“So, if I wanted to go back to living with the Dalish you would go with me.”

“Would I need to get the face tattoos?  I don’t know if I could pull them off as well as your people do.”

He felt her breath puff against his chin at her laugh.  “No.”

“Then yes.”

She laughed again and after a moment he felt her fingers touch against his cheek and slide down to his chin.  “And what if you want to go live in some city?”

He shook his head and reached blindly for her hand so he could pull it to his lips and brush a kiss over it.  “You would never want to live in a place like that.  The only reason you put up with people here is because you get to leave so often, and you have your hidey holes.”

“Hidey holes?”

“Mmm-hmm.”  He kissed her hand again then settled it back against his cheek.  “I think you would enjoy a cabin in some place like the Hinterlands more.  Close enough to a village for supplies, but far enough away that you could go days without seeing a soul.”

She curled her fingers lightly against his skin and he leaned in to the movement.  “Would there be books?”

He nodded and slid his hand up then back down her back, his attention drifting again for a moment.  “As many as you wanted, and all the nooks you could need to hide away and fall asleep in.”

Another laugh hit his face. “And you of course.”

He smiled and moved his hand up to toy with her hair.  “As long as you want me.”

She pushed up enough that she could brush a kiss along his jaw before settling back again, her hands curling under her head as she snuggled against him.  “I think I’d like being a farmer.”

“I can show you some tricks.”  He ruffled her hair before wrapping both arms around her waist.  “That’s a ways off though.  Nap now.”

From her lack of response, he assumed she was going along with the idea.


	34. A Kiss

He was teasing her, and she hated it.

He had stopped her in the hallway between the war room and Josephine’s office, his hands firm as they settled over her waist and tugged her into the corner.  She had gone willingly, content to lean against the hard plane of his armor as he pulled her closer, his breath a warm fan over her face.

But now, now he was hovering there, his lips occasionally hinting at a brush over hers as his gloved fingers traced small circles on the sides of her lower back.

His name was a breathless sigh as she pushed up onto her toes, mouth seeking his for firmer contact.  He chuckled at her movement, his head lifting away from hers before she could make a connection, a smile forming that made her whine in frustration.

“Just let me…”  His voice trailed off as his hands moved up and to her jaw, bracketing it and holding her still as he lowered towards her again.  He kissed her then, but not how she had expected.  He kissed her eyes, the curve of her cheek, the corner of her mouth, his lips light as a snowflake as they brushed over her skin and she rocked towards him again.

When his tongue darted out to smooth over the line of her jaw she tried to tilt her head so that she could capture it but he ignored her and bit at the tip of her chin instead.

“Close your eyes.”  The words were whispered as he moved his lips to hover over her again, and she temporarily forgot what he had asked as the intensity of his gaze locked with hers, the warm want in his eyes hard to look away from.

When she finally complied he ghosted his lips over hers, once, then again, his tea scented breath mingling with hers in the small space he kept between their mouths.  It was in that moment that she realized he was trying to seduce her and she felt herself smile.

She was completely fine with that plan, she was, but it didn’t stop her from whispering out a plea for him to kiss her as desire settled in her gut at another too soft brush of his lips.

She tightened her grip on the fur of his collar as his hands moved again, one curving around her skull and the other dropping to the small of her back to pull her closer.  His tongue traced over her bottom lip, the tickle of it causing her smile to widen, before he dipped between her lips, and teased over hers even as he angled her head further back.

“Lovely.”  The compliment was said into her mouth, the sound of it getting lost as he finally, finally pressed their lips together with the pressure she wanted.

It started slow, the slide of tongues easy and unhurried as they explored each other, but it didn’t take long for his grip to tighten in her hair and her hands to slide up and around his neck to try, somehow, to pull him closer.

She could feel hot air strike her cheek with his harsh breaths as she closed her lips around his tongue and gave it a light suck.  His fingers pressed into her back, holding her flush to him as he pulled away long enough to groan her name before biting then tugging at her bottom lip.

It seemed to go on forever, the two wrapped in each other, the wet sounds of their lips and tongues meeting and parting filling the quiet air, before he finally pulled her away.

“I need to get back to work.”

She gaped at him, pleasure still clouding her mind as she tried to understand what he was saying.  “Now?  Why now?”

He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip, his eyes lit with humor.  “Because the soldiers are waiting for my inspection.  I just wanted to make sure you were aware of what I had in mind later.”

It came to her then that this had probably been his plan the whole time.  Seeing if he could get her hot and bothered before leaving her to the wilds of her imagination until they had time alone again.

“That’s evil,” she stuttered out, her fingers flexing in fur before falling away.

He smirked at the statement, he _smirked_.  Cullen “I can’t even tell you I like your company without stuttering” Rutherford smirked and let out a low laugh even as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Probably,” he replied before moving around her and down the hall to Josephine’s door.


	35. What Might Have Been

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you hadn’t been at the Conclave?  If you had never become the Inquisitor?”

“I used to.”  She gave the reply immediately, fingers flexing a moment before she folded her arms across her chest and turned to pace away from the desk they had both been standing at.

“I used to wonder all the time when I would be able to go home, or what my clan might be doing if Keeper Deshanna had decided to not bother with Chantry concerns.”  She glanced back at Cullen as she spoke, a smile twisting her lips as she remembered it.  “I would just have my usual duties, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the rest of the world, or rifts, or trying to talk people into working together the way they should be anyway.”

They stared at each other a moment before Cullen look away first, his hands tightening around the daggers he still held.  She knew what he was thinking.  She knew that he was trying to form something to say that might work as an apology for the upheaval that was her life, but she didn’t want him to.  

She didn’t want stuttered words and apologies that weren’t his to give.  She also didn’t want him to think that she would rather have that other life, so she shook her head when he opened his mouth and took a step towards him so that she could curve her hands around his.  “But none of that matters because when I think about never having met you…”  She trailed off and took the daggers from him so she could set them aside even as her smile widened at his quizzical expression.  “I don’t ever wonder about those things anymore because a life without having known you?” She shook her head again and reached to hook their hands together.  “It’s not worth wondering about.”

She watched as his expression cleared, a brow raising and a smile forming even as he used their joined hands to tilt her face up to his.

“Do you wonder about it often,” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.  He let out a soft laugh and leaned in to kiss her, and it was answer enough.


	36. You Won

“And what do you get if I lose, which, My Lady, I should point out is probably not going to happen.”  Cullen could feel himself smirk with his words and watched as Nell over exaggerated a thoughtful expression.

“I could win, I’ve gotten better,” she stated after a moment, her lips tilting up even as he gave a disbelieving laugh and moved a piece to capture one of her knights.

“I suppose anything is possible,” he conceded though they both knew he didn’t mean a word of it.  “So, what would be your prize?”

He watched as she reached over to pick up the recently fallen night and start to toy with it as she thought again; finally she offered him a slow smile that ended with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.  “You.”

“Me?”

“Mmm.”  She leaned forward slightly as she moved a piece and then went back to passing the knight between her hands, her fingers catching his attention as they glided a bit too suggestively over the wood.  “You.  Any way I want you, for the rest of the day.”

He cleared his throat and forced himself to look back up at her face, which, with the expression she was making, wasn’t much better.  She looked like she already had plenty of ideas of what those things would be.  “And what about the work that needs to be done?”

When her smile widened he knew she probably wanted to say that she didn’t care about what had been planned for the day, but instead she set the knight down with a soft click and leaned her chin onto her hands.  “If you are worried about that, Commander, you should probably make sure I don’t win.”

“Nell,” he started then gave a strangled huff of laughter when he watched her finger move up her chin and over her lower lip, the nail gliding across the skin there before dipping in so that her tongue could play over the tip.  Taking a moment to swallow, he finally moved his gaze back to the board and reached out to knock his queen to its side.  “Oh, look at that, you won. You are getting better.  Well done, Inquisitor.”

She started laughing as he stood from his seat and reached out for her hand so he could all but yank her up with him and drag her from the garden.


	37. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not safe for work... kinda? Yeah.

If one thing could be said about the Herald’s Rest, it was that it was loud.  Very loud.  No matter the time or day it always seemed as if a perpetual din was floating out from the doors and windows to mix with the clashes and clangs coming from the training yard.

It made it the perfect place to drown out unwanted thoughts, which was the only reason Cullen could think of that he was tucked into a corner table watching as the Chargers sang drunkenly off key on the other side of the room.

“Look at this, Varric, the Commander does know where the tavern is.  I wasn’t sure he even knew how to leave his tower.”

The voice made him start, the cup of brandy in his hand sloshing as he jerked his attention up to the smugly smiling face of Dorian.

“Now Sparkler, you know that’s not true.  He comes out often enough when the Inquisitor is around.”

He moved his attention to Varric, a frown working over his face because he didn’t trust the twin looks of amusement that were directed at him.

“So he does,” Dorian agreed before sliding into a chair opposite the commander.  “Care if we join you?”

“Why do I have the feeling it wouldn’t matter if I said yes,” Cullen questioned, his frown deepening when Varric slid another glass in front of him.  “I already have something.”

“Have something more,” the dwarf replied, his smile widening as he settled himself into a chair.  “So tell us, Curly, what made you decide the grace us with your presence tonight?”

Cullen didn’t think he should reply, he didn’t trust Varric, or Dorian for that matter, with the information, so instead he lifted his glass and finished off the meager contents.

“I’m going to guess it has to do with our lovely Nellie,” Dorian started, his grin back in place as Cullen reached for the new drink, “and the fact that she’ll be leaving in the morning and has been holed up with Leliana over her plans for the last few days.”

Varric made a sympathetic sound that was completely ruined when he immediately laughed after making it.  “Feeling lonely, Curly?”

That wasn’t it.  It wasn’t.  Cullen almost wished it was, because at least than he wouldn’t seem like a lecher.  No, he had found himself in the tavern because being by himself was only leading to… thoughts.

Thoughts of her, under him, over him, in front of him, her face flushed with pleasure, mouth open on a moan.  He closed his eyes and downed the drink in his hand in one gulp.  It was like he was a teenager again, all singular thoughts and fantasies of humping, well, anything.

And it was only getting worse because they were never alone, never got to take that next step, never made it past kissing before someone interrupted them.

He wondered if it was a cruel joke the Maker was playing on him with how often someone walked in on them.

And so he was here, in the loudest place he could find, drink in hand, because at least this way he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.

He opened his eyes and saw a new cup in front of him and the other men still grinning.

“Shit, Curly, you have it bad.”

He started to reply then simply sighed and reached for the next drink.

It was hours later when he stepped out of the tavern, the sun had set and long shadows fell over the courtyard from the nightly lamps.  He had lost count of the number of drinks he had shared with the others, but from the way the world wavered and went soft around the edges he could only assume it had been quite a few.  He knew he was going to regret it in the morning, but at the moment he couldn’t be bothered to care because at least it had worked in taking his mind off of other things, and he found that it was also important that he focus more than usual on his feet and where he placed them as he turned towards the main hall of the keep.

He had almost made it to the steps when he heard someone calling him and he turned to stare blankly at the dark space that lead to the quartermaster’s office and the person that was forming out of it.

It would be her, who else would he be lucky enough to see when he had just done his rank best to forget about them?

He watched as she made her way to him, her steps unhurried and her hands full of papers.  She was also smiling, that slow, wide smile that she had that said she was pleased with something and that never usually failed to get him to smile back.  Tonight though, while he still had too much brandy swirling around inside of him, it made him scowl even as he lifted a finger to point at her.

“We’ve kissed.”

He watched as confusion flitted across her face, her steps drawing to a stop in front of him, before amusement took its place.  “We have, a few times, are you drunk?”

He ignored her question, instead settling on an idea.  “We’re going to again.”

“Are we?”

“Right now,” he stated, reaching for her arm and tugging her around the building until they were half hidden against the shadow darkened wall of the tavern.  He was dimly aware of the papers fluttering from her arms as he settled her against the cold stone, the wind causing them to dance for a few moments before falling into a sad circle around them, but he didn’t care, not when the object of his near constant torment was currently blinking up at him in amused confusion.

“I didn’t take you for the rutting in shadows sort,” she murmured, laughter lacing through her words, and he almost answered that he hadn’t either before deciding that more talking was not what he wanted to do.

So he kissed her.  All the other times, well save for the first, he had started soft, content to let a slow heat simmer until they were both bothered enough to need more, but not this time.  This time he immediately bit at her lip, his tongue laving over the sting before sinking into her mouth to tangle with hers.  He pressed into her, forcing her head back and letting himself go deeper, his teeth catching at her tongue when it pressed past his and then sucking at it before pulling back just enough to speak against her lips.

“Do you know what you do to me?”  He ran his hands down her sides with his words, molding them over her hips and then catching at her bottom so he could lift her higher against the wall, stepping in to pin her there and free his hands.  “What I want to do to you?”

He took her mouth again; tongue dipping past her teeth so that he could run it over the rough silk of hers before she could reply.  He could feel her hands creeping around his neck, too warm fingers sliding into his hair and gripping.

He forced his mouth to release hers, fingers coming up to fumble at the buttons of her shirt even as she tilted her hips into his, the heat of her rubbing against the hard jut of his cock where it pressed against the front of his pants.  He groaned at the contact and gave up on the buttons once he had enough undone that he could press his lips to the soft skin between her breasts, his hands moving the fabric out of the way and flicking over her pebbled nipples.

“I’ve dreamed about it, thought about it,” he said before lifting his mouth back to hers, words working their way out between kisses.  “How I would take you.  How you would feel once I was inside you.  I want to make you scream, make you beg.  Make it so you can’t walk the next day.  I want to know what you taste like when I shove my tongue inside of you, and the sounds you would make while your lips are wrapped around me.  Do you ever think about it?”

The question was met with a stuttered moan and he watched as she struggled to speak but gave up as one of his nails scrapped over the peak of her nipple.  He realized, vaguely, that he was still jerking his hips into her, the steady rhythm building pleasure even through the layers of their clothes.  He assumed, from the way she arched against him, her hips keeping time with his, that it was having the same effect on her.

He bent his head to capture one of her breasts with his mouth, teeth clamping lightly over her nipple before he began sucking.  Nell arched her chest even more forward at the feel of it, another cracked cry breaking from her as her hands scrambled for purchase against the slick fur of his collar.

Cullen realized, suddenly, that he could bring her to completion right here, could probably do the same for himself, and the thought had him increasing the pace of his thrusts, his tongue pressing against her breast before circling it and moving to the other.

He just needed to find a way to get both their pants off without putting her down… They were both so close…

The sound of the tavern door opening, and the bright burst of voices that followed it had them both freezing, the heavy sound of their breathing all that might give them away, and luckily it was covered by the ruckus that flowed from within the building.

What was he doing?  _What was he doing?_

He pressed his forehead against her chest as he struggled to regain himself.  After a few minutes the sounds disappeared and they were left in the silence of the evening again, from above him he could hear Nell’s quiet chuckle.

“Where were we?”

He shook his head, his brow still pressing into her skin, before he finally pulled back.  “We should stop.  This isn’t right.  I’m drunk.”

“I don’t know, I thought you were doing very well.”  She sounded breathless, and he pulled back so he could see her face.  Her eyes gleamed back at him like a cat’s in the dark, something he had learned was normal for elves, but he could still read pleasure in them, and in the smile the curved her mouth.

He reached up a hand to smooth he hair back from her forehead, fingers skimming over one of her ears before dropping to her waist so he could set her on her feet and begin rebuttoning her shirt.  “You deserve better than rutting in the shadows,” he replied, using her words from early even as his brain seemed to flip in his head and went fuzzy again.

“I’m hardly a blushing maiden who needs some special first time, Cullen.”  She stated it matter of factly, humor tinting her words even as she reached up to smooth a hand over his cheek.

He turned his head to press his lips to her palm a moment before stepping away from her and taking her hand in his, his head tipping down so he could speak against her ear.  “Be that as it may, I want to be fully aware when I finally take you.  I want to remember every single moment, every single sound, and when you come…”  He trailed off, a smile forming as he straightened.  “Ah, Nell, when you come, when you scream out your release, because trust me, you will scream, I want to remember exactly what it looks like.”

She stared up at him, eyes wide a moment before she blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand through her already wild hair.  “That’s an unfair thing to say when I have to leave tomorrow.”

He smiled at the statement and started to walk towards the keep, Nell’s hand firmly in his as she fell into step beside him.  “Well, it’ll give us both something to look forward to.”

She made a face and leaned into him, brows lowering over her eyes even as she lifted her free hand to squeeze his arm.  “I hate waiting.”


	38. She Had to Come Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: something short about that time in Adamant when the Inquisitor falls back into the Fade and Cullen thinks he lost her again. All from his POV, with her reemerging in the end and him reacting to it.

She was coming back. She had to.  She _had_ to.

If she didn’t… No, it didn’t bear thinking about.  She would come back.

She had to.  He repeated it again in his mind as he stood beside Leliana, heart in his throat and watched the warbling green rift that stood half opened in the center of the courtyard.

The fighting was over, yes, but no one was quite sure what to do now.  It wasn’t like they could close it, not without…

She had to come back. They hadn’t had enough time together, hadn’t even…

He had never told her he loved her.  The thought was like a punch in the gut.  He’d meant to, so many times that he had lost count.  The words were a near constant on the tip of his tongue since almost the moment that he had met her, but he hadn’t wanted to put that weight on her, push her into something she wasn’t ready for.

Hadn’t wanted to take the chance of her not feeling the same way back.

He was a fool and now, and now he might not get the chance.   She had already lived through so many miracles, what were the odds that she would get another?

He was sure he was supposed to be doing something, shouting orders, making sure that everything was secure, but he couldn’t seem to move his feet, couldn’t tear his eyes from the portal, a small part of his mind repeating “come on” over and over again. He felt Leliana shift beside him and place her hand on his arm, the weight of it almost nonexistent through his armor.

“I’m sure she’ll get out, Commander.  She’s not alone and she’s clever.”

He tried to reply, but the words got stuck in his throat and so he simply continued to stare at the pulsing green.  Leliana sighed and fell silent again.

It seemed like hours before the portal began to pulse with energy, waves of light rolling off of its edges and scattering along the ground.  He took an aborted step forward when the whole of it seemed to surge forward then snap back, and three figures came tumbling out.

Seeing that it was Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric he did finally move, legs carrying him at a run to where they had stumbled to a stop.

Nell wasn’t with them.

“Where is the Inquisitor?” He could hear the panic in his voice and a hand came up unbidden to grip at Dorian’s arm.  “Why isn’t she with you?”

“She was right behind us,” Dorian stated, his expression turning concerned as they all stared at the empty space behind them.

Cullen swore and made to move past the others.  He had to find her, it was all that mattered.

Hands stopped him and drug him back, but the words being said to him were lost as panic began to set in. If she didn’t come back… If she…

The portal pulsed again and he watched as Nell and Hawke raced out.  Nell’s hand was already lifting, the bright green of her mark swirling out, and she turned and made a ripping motion that caused the rift to slam closed.

He stared at her as she squeezed her hands into fists and whirled back around, her eyes scanning the crowd.  She was covered in dirt and blood and she looked angry, furious, and annoyed, but also beautiful, so absolutely beautiful, and alive.

She was alive.

It felt like his energy left him all at once, and he sagged against the hands still holding him.

“I’m alright,” he croaked out, and felt someone pat his shoulder before they all moved away.  He was alright, he was; he just needed to stare at her for a little longer.  Touching would also help with proof that she was real, but she had already moved off, head whipping around as she ground out something that had Hawke nodding.

He managed a smile when her gaze met his, and he couldn’t help taking a step towards her when he saw the utter relief that crossed her face.  The idea that she had been worried about him too…

But then she was turning away, words already rising up to the others that were around them, anger and frustration coming back in full force.

It didn’t matter, she was alive.  That was what was important.  Everything else could wait till later.


	39. He was a Commander

He kissed like he did everything else.

Which was, she supposed, a simple way of saying that he kissed with a very single minded determination.  Like he was solving a problem, or going into battle, which would have been an amusing thought if it didn’t make him so blasted good at it.

The look on his face before his lips met hers was the same look he would have when showing a new recruit how to hold their shield, or when he had a mountain of paperwork and only a few hours to sort it out.  He would stare at her a moment, sometimes two, long enough to have her feel the urge to close the distance between them herself, which she did sometimes, and which he always took in stride, if taking something in stride meant laughing into her mouth and catching her up against him.  But if she didn’t take it upon herself to start he would simply do the stare, his hands positioning just so before he dipped his head to hers.

Sometimes it was slow, the brush of his lips light, once, twice, before he would lick along the seam of her mouth as if testing for entrance.  She liked to call those the problem solving kisses, because obviously he was working out the best strategy in his mind, not that she needed worked out.   She was fairly certain that as far as problems went she was a rather straight forward one. 

The battle ones were when he wasted no such time testing the waters.  He would simply capture her lips with his own, his hands holding her jaw so that her mouth was open to the immediate and dizzying sweep of his tongue.

Both had their merits, both had their place, and both were overwhelming in the amount of need they shot through her when they started.  Which was, of course, the only problem, if it could actually be called a problem at all.  His kisses were never light, never friendly, not unless she surprised him with one, or he forgot himself and kissed her somewhere public, which didn’t happen nearly often enough in her mind.  No, they were always a promise, a hint of what else was in store.

She very rarely walked away from one of his kisses without the distinct and desperate need to have more of him.  If she was being honest, she very rarely walked away from his kisses at all.  Who would want to?  Instead, she most often pushed and shoved and tugged at him until they were somewhere private enough that they could have their way with each other.

He had learned, fairly early on, not to kiss her at all if either of them were in the middle of something particularly important.  It saved them both hassle later.

None of this was to say that there wasn’t tenderness on his part, the man was a romantic whether he would ever admit it out loud or not and there was no end to the cuddling, or hand holding, or light playing with her hair when they were simply enjoying each other’s company.  So of course when kissing occurred his eyes would warm and his hands would soften, but it only ever came after the initial contact, almost as if he was rewarding them both for getting it right.

Not that he ever got it wrong.

Not that she could either with the way he would simply drag her along on the near constant current of pleasure that his lips could wring out of her.

So when someone asked what he was like, in private, in bed, in the simple moments between the chaos that was their lives, she would smile and roll a shrug and tuck that small part of him she got for herself into a corner of her mind and simply tell them that he was a commander and so what did they think?

Because how did you tell someone that you get stared at like you are the most important problem that needs solving, that you get touched as if every point of contact is made simply to give you the most pleasure?  No, those were hers; the others could make of her answer what they would.


	40. I Don't Share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The “I’m not bait!” conversation. I feel like my inquisitor would laugh but also want the letters to read herself… Maybe a little jealous? Maybe remind the commander who he’s sworn to? Maybe Cullen either loves it and it leads somewhere or laughs and thinks she’s adorable. Just some ideas. Jealous Cullen was awfully fun.

She wasn’t paying attention to the conversation at the wartable. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to pay attention, it was just that, well, she had gotten bored when they started discussing the various families they had met at the Winter Palace and what connections they had. So she wasn’t paying attention, and instead she was staring at the little metal pieces that dotted the map and contemplating tossing one at Leliana just to see if her reflexes were as good as Nell thought them to be.

“Hush. Just look pretty.”

The words, coming from Leliana, were said on a laugh and had Nell looking up, confusion causing her eyes to narrow even as she took in the way the two women were smiling and Cullen looked as if he had swallowed something foul, not that that was an unusual look for him when around the other advisors.

“Who’s looking pretty,” Nell asked, and earned an even brighter smile from Leliana even as Josephine began to shuffle papers around on her board.

“The commander, Inquisitor,” the ambassador stated diplomatically, pulling a stack of papers from her stash. “Did you lose attention again? I said that Cullen seemed in high demand, and Leliana put in that she thought it might be worth noting who was so interested in the commander.”

Nell took the stack of letters offered to her and glanced down at them. Skimming over the writing of the top one she scowled and pulled out another at random. “They want to know his lineage?”

“Since the Commander is unmarried,” Josephine started, her expression turning pensive as she seemed to realize that perhaps Nell wouldn’t find it all as amusing as they did, “there are several courtiers interested in… getting to know him better.”

Another randomly picked letter revealed similar content along with a thinly veiled question asking to be informed when Cullen was bored with his “current indiscretions”, and Nell let out a humming noise before glancing up to the person of interest. “Didn’t you tell them you were unavailable? I seem to remember that coming up in conversation.”

“It did,” Cullen agreed, nodding. “Several times.” He sounded exasperated and she couldn’t help smiling at the noise, and the way his brows lowered over his eyes and his nose scrunched up. He really did have the best scowls.

“Right.” She nodded and looked back down at the letters long enough to watch them burn to ash in her hands, the bright embers of them floating up and disappearing into the dust moats that already hung in the air. She already disliked the courtiers of Orlais, she would be damned if she was going to let them try and pretend like she was some passing amusement that Cullen was going to get bored with. She looked back up, and had to bite back another smile at the way Josephine’s mouth hung open and her eyes tracked Nell’s hands as they brushed away the burnt remains.

“Really, Nell. We could have used those to our advantage and it’s not like we would promise Cullen’s affection to them.” Leliana waved her hand in front of her face as she spoke, sending the floating ash scattering. Nell had no doubt she was telling the truth, Leliana was many things, but she wasn’t one to sell people and they were both aware that Nell would have hated to have to try and kill her.

“Be that as it may,” she started and turned her attention to Josephine, “I don’t share. Josie I need you to take a statement.” Nell waited for her to fish out a fresh piece of parchment, her gaze moving to where Cullen was now grinning, amused. “Unless you have some desire to check your options?”

He shook his head, his smile widening. “Not at all, My Lady.”

“Correct answer,” she laughed and looked back to Josephine again. “This will be an official proclamation. It has recently come to the Inquisition’s attention that certain parties have developed an interest in Commander Cullen Rutherford and his personal life. While we can appreciate that the commander is a very attractive man-“

“Inquisitor, you can’t possibly want me to write that,” Josephine stuttered out, and Nell merely raised a brow at her as the others snorted out laughs.

“While we can appreciate that the commander is a very attractive man,” she said again and watched as Josephine muttered something and went back to writing. “He is far too busy with important situations that involve the safety of almost the entire continent to be constantly distracted by the fancies of people who find him pretty. Therefore, any more inquiries into his private life will be promptly disposed of. Also, they will be considered a slight against the inquisition itself, and a blatant disregard for the work it does, and so the sender will be dealt with accordingly. If and when-”

“If and when,” Cullen asked with a raised brow, and Nell nodded her understanding.

“In the unlikely event that this situation changes, all relevant parties will be informed.”

She glanced over to Cullen and tilted her head slightly, returning his smile. “Any objections?”

“No.” He looked far too amused, and his hand was positioned over his mouth as if he could hold back his expression.

“Inquisitor… Nell,“ Josephine began, her expression pleading, “you can’t really-“

Nell lifted a hand to stop her, her smile dropping. “You will make copies of that and send it to every family that wrote to you about him, Josephine, or I swear to Mythal herself that I will drag the commander to Val Royeaux and stand with my hand on his ass and a sign around his neck that says ‘mine’ in the middle of the gates to the royal palace.”

Josephine made a strangled noise, her eyes wide enough that Nell worried for a moment that they might pop out of her head, or that she would simply keel over right in the middle of the war room and they would be out an ambassador.

“No matter what else can be said about you, Nell, at least you are always amazingly straightforward.” Leliana smiled as she said it and moved over to pat a hand on Josephine’s still rigid back. “I will make sure that your orders are carried out myself.”

“Wonderful.” She shot another smile to them all, adding a wink to Cullen where he still stood with his amusement caught behind his hand, and reached to pick up what was left of her missives. “Now, if that’s all, I’m off to make some cookies.”

“You don’t know how to make cookies,” Cullen said, his voice amazingly controlled, if a bit muffled, even as his eyes glittered with humor.

“I don’t, that’s why the cook agreed to teach me and Sera a recipe that doesn’t involve raisins.” Neither of them had much cared for the ones with them.

“Ah. Of course.”

“I’ll meet with you all individually later,” Nell stated as she turned to the door, the vision of Josephine still trying to sputter out words something she couldn’t wait to share with Sera.


	41. I Thought Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cullen x Inquizzy, ‘I saw this, and thought of you’ :D

“You saw this and thought of me?”  Cullen’s expression was more than a little skeptical as he stared at the crown of flowers Nell was holding out to him.  He also took a step back, but she didn’t hesitate in following his movement so that she stayed pressed up against him.

“I did, and my feelings are going to be very hurt if you don’t at least try it on.”

“I don’t think-“

“Fine!” She stepped away as her face fell in what even he could tell was a mimicry of hurt, her arms dropping to her side. “I see how it is.  Maybe someone else will want it.  You know, Michel said something about us getting better acquainted.”

The words did not cause a stab of jealousy to strike through him.  They didn’t.  Nell didn’t flirt with other men, she barely even paid attention to them.  He knew, logically, that her attention, her interest, wasn’t turned elsewhere, even in curiosity.  Apparently logic had no bearing over him however since he immediately reached out to grip her arm.

When she simply turned to raise a brow in his direction he barely stopped himself from cursing out loud.  “Alright. Let me have it.”

When he reached out to take the circle she held it just out of his reach, both brows lowering in question.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he ground out, wondering, not for the first time, if she was simply giving it to him so that Sera and Dorian could pop out and yell surprise once he had it on.  Pushing the thought away he reached for the flowers again then popped them unceremoniously onto his head so that one side fell dangerously low.

Even as he scowled the smile she sent him was nearly blinding.  She reached up to straighten the crown then stepped away from him so that she could see the effect more fully.

From the, rather uncharacteristic, little clap of glee she gave he could only assume she approved.

Finally, she stepped forward again so that she could reach up and straighten the flowers, her hands smoothing down his face and arms until they could gripped his hands.  “Perfect.  I can’t wait to show the others.”

When she started to tug at him he resisted, giving his own tug so that she stumbled against his chest and he could release her hands and wrap his arms around her waist.  “No.”

Nell rolled her eyes at the word, her own arms coming up to circle around his neck. “You’re no fun, Commander.”

“I can be a great deal of fun, Inquisitor,” he replied, head lowering until he could skim his lips across her cheek and to the point of her ear.  “But it usually only happens when I’m one on one with someone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Cullen flicked his tongue over the lobe of her ear, smiling as she tightening her grip around his neck.  “Would you like me to show you?”

“By all means, Commander.  I’m all yours.”


	42. Sometimes

Cullen loved her and sometimes, sometimes, she loved him back.

He didn’t know when he had actually fallen in love.  It might have been the first time they met, when she had gaped and flirted and looked at him in a way that he had long since decided wasn’t a way he would ever be looked at.  Like he was fascinating, like he was something new and interesting and not the broken and regret filled shell that he knew himself to be.

No, he didn’t know if that was when loved planted itself in his heart or if it came later, all he knew was that there was suddenly a day when the sight of her made everything else around them melt away until they were all that was left and he couldn’t be bothered to care if nothing else existed ever again.

That was when he knew,  _knew_ , that he loved her, that he would always love her, and that he would spend his life making sure she never once doubted it.

He didn’t think her feelings were nearly as clear.

Sometimes he could see it; an amused expression would crack into affection for a moment before it was once again hidden away, or her fingers would linger just a touch longer than was necessary before they were pulled close to her body as if she was afraid she might reach out again.  In those moments he was sure that she loved him, was sure that what he felt was returned in equal measure, but those moments were brief, fleeting things often lost amongst a biting tongue and a desire to keep herself away from the world because that was what would be easiest.

So the words were kept locked inside of him, warm and bright and ready to be given when they would be accepted, and he waited.

He waited for her dance to be over, for the uncertainty to give way to acceptance because he knew that as much as she wanted to not care there was a bigger part of her that wanted what they could have and it would win out.

One day he would love her and she would always love him back.


	43. Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So my brother ate an entire large pizza on his own today and regretted it. Just a bit ago he told me I needed to put it into a story. So, here, have a ridiculous drabble about bad decisions. ^.

The groans grabbed his attention as soon as he stepped through the door at the bottom of the stairs. Fearing what might be wrong, Cullen took them two at a time until he was in the main room and his gaze could fall on the sprawled form of Nell where she was laying on the floor by her desk.

When she gave another groan he sprinted to her side and dropped down, hands moving worriedly over her form as he tried to get her attention.

“What’s wrong?  What happened?”

Nell cracked her eyes open at him even as she rubbed her hands over her stomach.  “Pie.”

“Pie,” he repeated, not quite a question, and looked up to the desk where an empty pie pan sat after she made a vague gesture towards it.

Fear gripped him and he found himself bundling her into his arms even before he realized what he was doing. Visions of her dying from some sort of poison shot through his mind as he headed for the stairs and words tumbled from his mouth down to her about everything being alright.

He was halfway to the door when he finally realized she was saying his name.

He paused when he registered that she was also saying that the pie wasn’t poisoned.

“What’s wrong then?” He shifted her until he could more easily see her face and waited as she moaned at the movement.

“I ate too much of it.”

“Ate too much of it?  How much did you eat?”

She paused at the question, apparently thinking over how she would respond, and then finally mumbled something incoherent out.

He frowned at the evasive answer, his brows lowering as she looked anywhere but at his face.  “Nell, how much did you eat?”

“The whole thing,” she replied, louder, her face setting in a mutinous line when his mouth dropped open at the news.

“Nell the pies they make are for a dozen people.”

“Yes.”

“Why would you eat the entire thing yourself?”

“It was good.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

“It’s not like I’m saying mistakes weren’t made.”  She sounded mulish, sullen, and he had to bite back a laugh as he turned and started back up the stairs.  Reaching the bed, he deposited her in the center and watched as she wrapped her arms around her middle and turn slightly to the side.

“Are you going to be sick?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Another pause, and when she spoke again she sounded unsure.  “No.”

Feeling sympathy finally start to trickle in to mix with the confusion on why anyone, especially someone who was usually so intelligent, would think it was a good idea to eat an entire pie, he went to pick up the bathing bucket and set it on the bed next to her head.

She grabbed it and practically curled herself around it before looking up to him.  “I have never felt this miserable.”

“You’re lucky your stomach didn’t burst.”

“Cullen.”  His name was a whine, the vowels dragged out and surprisingly out of character from how she normally spoke.   “I’m serious.”

He didn’t bother hiding the laugh this time, but he did move around the bed so he could settle behind her. “So am I.  Just imagine the mess that would have made, pie and guts everywhere. The maids would have hated you.”

When she only groaned again, her body tightening around the bucket, he relented and slipped his arm around her waist so his hand could smooth soothing circles over her stomach. “What kind of pie was it?”

“Apple.  I’m never eating apple pie again.”

It was a lie, they both knew it, but he let her have it.


	44. Retaliation

“What are you eating?” Cullen asked, leaning over the back of the chair  so that he could look down over Nell’s shoulder and at the small bowl she was holding in her hands.

He had discovered her alone in the kitchen, her back to the door that lead out to the training yard stairs and her shoulders hunched over the cutting table and whatever it was she was eating.

Nell seemed to think over his question before tilting back her chair so that the edge of it bit into the sweat dampened cloth of his practice shirt, and he had to grip the sides so that she didn’t topple them both over.

“Pudding,” she answered slowly, as if she was unsure if that was actually what it was.  He watched her head tilt one way then the other before she lifted the bowl over her head and greeted him with the half eaten cream concoction that seemed to be somewhere between white and brown in the dull light of the kitchen fire.

Cullen hesitated before taking it.  “What flavor is it?”

She shrugged and turned in her seat to kneel against the back of the chair so that she could watch him scrap the spoon slowly around the edge of the bowl before collecting some and bringing it to hover under his nose.

It didn’t really smell like anything.  He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“You don’t know what flavor it is?”

“I didn’t ask.”

He frowned at the carefully set blankness of her face for a moment before taking a tentative bite.

The flavor burst over his tongue, coating his mouth in a foul taste and making him grimace.

It took a minute to work the stuff down his throat, and while it did nothing to help the taste it did allow him to cough out her name.

“Nell.”

“Yes?”

“This is flavored with aniseed.”

“Really?”

“You know I hate aniseed.”

He watched her face break, a smiling laugh bubbling out before it was quickly smothered and gone.  “Oh, that’s right.  Sorry, I must have forgotten.”

He stared at her as she stepped down from the chair and began backing towards the door, her cheeks turning a bright pink from suppressed laughter.

“You’re going to regret that,” he stated, almost conversationally, as he set the bowl down.

“Don’t be silly, Cullen, you’d have to catch me first.”

Cullen lifted a brow and took a step towards her as she continued towards the door.  “Is that a challenge, Inquisitor?”

“And if it is, Commander?”

“Then I’d say you have about five seconds to run.”

Nell did laugh at that, her hand coming to settle on the wooden handle of the door.  “You aren’t seriously going to chase me through the keep.”

“Chasing isn’t what I had in mind.  Four.”

“You do know that you’re the same person who hates drawing attention to themselves, right?”

“I know, I’ll be quite put out.  Three.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“You had best hope you get somewhere private before I catch up.  Two.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“There’s only one way to find out.  One.”

As he said the last number he lunged towards her, his hand swiping out in an effort to grab her arm, instead it closed around nothing as she laughed again and disappeared through the door.

Cullen wasted no time in following after her.


	45. Lessons

Nell could hear the music well before she knew where it was coming from.

The notes of it were hesitant, picked out in slightly off tune tones until a song drifted along the halls around her.

She followed it, curious as to where it was coming from, and found the source in a still dusty and crumbling room.

It was more than a little surprising to see Cullen was the one sitting on the bench, his fingers searching and punching out the notes as he hummed to himself. Nell couldn’t help smiling at the picture it made. The stalwart commander, his armor polished to gleaming, hunched over a relic of an out-of-tune piano and hesitantly playing.

“I didn’t know you played.” She made the words light, biting back a laugh when he jumped and spun the top half of himself around. He had taken his gloves and sword off, setting both on the floor beside him, and his bare hands closed over air as he reached for the weapon where it should have been at his hip.

Finally noticing who she was, he scowled and flexed his fingers. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me.”

“It’s not like I prowled in. If you had been paying attention you would have heard me.”

Cullen shook his head and made to stand, pausing when Nell made a motion to stop him then came over and settled beside him on the bench. She skimmed her fingers over the keys, pushing a few and listening as they sounded then faded around her.

“Do you play?”

Cullen asked the question once she stopped, and Nell laughed at it. “When would I have learned? There isn’t really room for something like this in an aravel.”

“But you all do have music.  I’ve heard you talk about it. You might play something similar.”

Nell shook her head and pressed a few more keys. “My training didn’t leave time for such things. Where did you learn?”

There wasn’t an immediate answer, and she glanced back at him when Cullen scooted closer before reaching his arms around her and sliding his hands over the top of hers. Once he was in place, his hands and breathe warm against her, he lead her fingers in another play of the song she had heard before. It seemed to come less haltingly this time.

“My mother played. She wanted all of us to learn so gave us lessons. I wasn’t very good at practicing though, and it’s been years… I only remember the one song.”

“What is it?”

“A lullaby. It was my mother’s favorite.”

The fact that he remembered his mother’s favorite song, remembered how to play it, even slowly, caused Nell’s chest to tighten and she stilled her hands under his before twisting them so that her palms met his and she could link their fingers together. Tilting her head so that she could see his face, she met his curious expression with a smile.

“You are a sweet man, Commander.”

He blushed and dropped his gaze, his hand jerking in hers once as if he wanted to pull it away. Probably to rub at his neck if she had to guess.

“Sweet,” he laughed the word out and turned his eyes to her again, a tilted smile forming. “I am not sweet.”

“You are. It’s adorable.” She watched the blush darken and spread before relenting and looking back at the piano, her hands turning palm down again. “So, are you going to teach it to me?”

“I thought that was what I was doing.”

“Was it? I promise to pay attention then.”

She felt his smile against her cheek before he pressed his lips there, the soft warmth of them lingering against her skin for several long moments. Finally, he pulled away and together they again began playing.


	46. You Aren't Good at It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from choirnerdsunite on Tumblr
> 
> Follow up to Retaliation. Cullen tries to get the Nell back, unfortunately for him, he's no good at it.

This was his fault, he knew that. He had brought it on himself.

But he didn’t think Nell had to be laughing quite as hard as she currently was, and there was definitely no reason for her to be doubled over on the couch while he stood in front of her with honey dripping down the front of his armor.

“You thought… and you just… I-I-“ Nell stuttered out the half formed sentences before dissolving into laughter again, her head dropping between her knees as she sporadically gulped in air.

Cullen swiped at the mess on his chest and bit back a curse as he realized that he hadn’t thought to remove his gloves meaning he had only succeeded in smearing the honey over more of his uniform.

Sighing, he looked back at her. “Nell.”

Her head didn’t lift, but her hands came up to wave at him as another round of laughter rolled out of her and towards the floor.

He sighed again and turned to strip his gloves off, tossing the now sticky leather onto a side table for lack of a better place for it.

Reaching to undo his belt, he felt hands cover his and stop his movement.

“Let me help. You don’t need to get honey all over everything,” Nell stated, humor still causing her voice to shake.

He waited while she made short work of his top layers, taking care to not spread the honey over anything else.

She was smiling as she got to the buckles of his armor, and Cullen couldn’t help the short snort of laughter that came out at the fact that her fingers made quick work of them. He remembered the trouble she had had the first time they had been together, and the arguing that had followed.

Practice helped it seemed.

“You probably shouldn’t try pranking anyone again,” Nell murmured, the purple of her eyes peeking up at him through the tousled pieces of her hair as she slid the chest piece off and set it carefully on the floor.

“I wanted to get you back for the pudding.”

“But you aren’t good at it,” she replied as she reached out to flick a finger over his arm. “For all your strategic brilliance, Commander, you are terrible at subterfuge. Best leave that to Leliana.”

“Maybe,” he muttered in agreement, distracted enough by the way she was still running her finger along the thin cotton of his undershirt that he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed.

But not distracted enough to forget his next question.

“You aren’t going to tell the others about this, are you?”

“Oh, absolutely I am.”

“Nell-“

“I don’t even know if I’m going to make it till tomorrow before I go and find Sera. She will love it.”

On a list of things Cullen needed in his life, Sera knowing about his blunder was almost at the bottom of the list. Maybe even at the bottom, since he couldn’t think of a single thing that would make things worse at the moment.

“So… what you are saying is I need to keep you busy until you forget about it.”

Nell laughed, her head tilting back so she could look at him more directly. “I honestly don’t think that is possible.”

“Never underestimate my ability to follow through with a plan, Inquisitor.”

He slid his hand under her chin to keep her face in place as he lowered his mouth to hers. He didn’t kiss her though, not right away, instead he stopped just short of their lips touching, the heat of their breath mixing in the almost nonexistent space between them.

“Care for me to show you?”

Nell licked her lips, her tongue brushing over his bottom lip briefly with the movement and causing the skin there to tingle.

“I’m definitely willing to let you try.”

It was all the encouragement he needed.


	47. PDA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josie wants the Inquisitor and Commander to act more professional.

She had been gone too long.

Weeks had blended into months in the perpetual night and endless nothingness that had been the Hissing Wastes.

She never thought she would be as happy to see Skyhold and it’s plethora of people as she was.

She searched the crowd as soon as her horse stepped passed the archway into the courtyard, seeking out the distinctive trio of her advisors.  She found them standing, per usual, near the stairs that lead up to the Keep and Tavern.

She skimmed over Leliana and Josie, giving them cursory glances that confirmed they were fine before settling on blonde hair that practically shined in the sun.

She was being poetic… she really had been gone too long.

She shook the thought out of her head and slid herself out of her saddle before it could find its way back.

Giving a distracted greeting to the stable hand that came to claim her horse, Nell made a beeline for where the three stood in a staggered row.  Offering quick hellos to the two women, she focused her attention on the smiling man who stood in the middle.

“Hi.”

“Hi”

They stared at each other a long moment, soaking in the others presence after such a long absence.

But they stepped no closer together.

Joise’s letter while Nell had been in the Wastes, kept Nell from closing the gap between them, and she guessed that Cullen was having the same problem.

_It’s all well and good that you two can be found kissing in corners when you are here, but we will have political and royal figures visiting when you return and the last thing we need is for them to see the inquisitor and her commander necking like teenagers._

Nell really didn’t want to listen to the scolding that Josie could dish out so soon after getting back from being away.

So she tucked her hands behind her back and tried her best to not watch the way Cullen’s lips twitched into a smile, one side tilting up a bit more then the other so that she could see a bright flash of his teeth.

“So… everything has been good here?”

“Yes… Very good.  No problems at all.”

She looked up as he spoke, just long enough to note that he was staring at her mouth and the smile she knew she was trying to hold back.

“Good.”

“Yes.”

They fell into silence, and she found herself distracted by the way his mouth worked a moment before he let out an indistinct sound, and she couldn’t help touching her tongue to the tip of her teeth before taking a step closer.

Cullen gave a breathless laugh and stuck his hands behind his back in a mirror of her stance.  “It’s good to see you, Nell.”

And then he was smiling wider, humor crossing over his face, and she didn’t care anymore about what Josie might find appropriate.

So she took another step until she could press against him, and she could feel his hands slide around her waist.

Somewhere to the side Josie was sighing, loudly, and somewhere to the other side Leliana was stifling a laugh, but none of it mattered as her and Cullen’s lips met and the world melted away around them.


End file.
